


Redemption for the Broken

by NatureGirl202



Category: Agents of S.H.I.E.L.D. (TV)
Genre: F/M, OC isn't a main so no worries peeps, So here we are, already posted to ff.net, and peeps were like "go for it", but I just got this new account, if that wasn't totally obvious, redemption fic, written post-season 1
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2014-10-04
Updated: 2014-10-05
Packaged: 2018-02-19 21:12:16
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 15
Words: 51,496
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/2403041
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/NatureGirl202/pseuds/NatureGirl202
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>"He wants to bang his head against the wall until it's a bloody mess because there are a million reasons why he shouldn't do it, but all he can seem to focus on are the reasons why he should. He could protect Skye- she hates him. He could apologize for everything- for nothing. He could be given orders again- and never trusted with them."</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. Demons

**Author's Note:**

> So, yeah, this whole thing has already been posted to ff.net, so if you want to see my "in the moment" commentary on each chapter, check it out there lol (same username). But also, 'cause it's already finished and all posted somewhere else, I'll probably finish uploading the whole thing here in a day or two.

_“When your dreams all fail_

_And the ones we hail_

_Are the worst of all_

_And the blood’s run stale”_  

 “Are you listening to me, Grant?” He blinks, the change in her tone from factual to exasperated catching his attention. She has an eyebrow cocked at him as she taps her pen against her clipboard. “I thought you were done tuning me out.”

He glances away and gives a shrug. “Sorry.” There’s a slight rasp to his voice now, due to the injury he received six months ago.

Dr. Gayle has been his psychologist for the last six months. After a look at his file, she’d assigned herself to his case. According to her, it was because she liked a challenge. He’d resented her almost immediately. She hadn’t wasted a second prying into his brain and digging up every little thing he didn’t want to think about, didn’t want to deal with. The relationship had seemed to reach a common ground over the months, though it tended to be friendlier on her side than his.

She pushes her glasses further up the bridge of her nose. She looks like she’s in her early twenties, but he knows she has to be older with the amount of degrees she no doubt has. He actually doesn’t really know a damn thing about her, which he’s pretty sure is on purpose. It irritates the hell out of him because he’s pretty sure that somewhere along the way, he was more honest with her than anyone else in his entire life.

“You’ve been here for six months now, and we’ve been at this for a little less than that. How do you feel about your progress?”

 

_“I’m Dr. Gayle. I’m going to be your psychologist during your stay here.”_

_“What happened to the ‘torture’?”_

_“Oh, I put an end to that.” He raised an eyebrow slightly in question, not breaking the mask of indifference he wore. “They wanted to break you.”_

_He scoffed. “So?”_

_She shrugged nonchalantly, but her eyes bore into his. “I just don’t think it makes sense to break something that’s already broken.”_

He glances around the room. They’re in an interrogation room, which is odd. She had always insisted on having their sessions in his cell. “You tell me.” She nods and he can tell she didn’t expect any different of a response.

“I think your progress has been very impressive for only a six month timespan.” He’s not so sure about that. If anything, he’s more conflicted than ever. He’s doubting things he had never doubted before: Garrett’s intentions, the worth of his sacrifices, his future.

His jaw clenches as he forces away that train of thought. “Why are you asking? Is it time for your monthly progress report?”

She actually smiles as she leans back in her chair, and he’s instantly wary. “Actually, it’s time for the next step in your therapy.”

His stomach twists. He can already tell he’s not going to like this. “Alright.”

A smirk flashes across her face, before she sobers. He watches as she stands up from her chair and walks toward the back corner of the room, glancing briefly at the door. “Come in.”

The door opens and Ward swallows hard, his entire body going rigid as he meets the hard stare of Phil Coulson. The man eyes Ward for a moment, before shutting the door behind him and turning toward Gayle, his face taking on a look of friendliness that always managed to put people at ease. Ward resists the urge to look away, remembering a time when that look had once been directed at him. He hadn’t deserved it then, though, and he certainly doesn’t deserve it now.

“Gayle” Coulson greets, offering a smile.

She gives a small smile of her own along with a respectful dip of her head. “Director.” Ward processes this new information. He had asked about his former teammates a few times- Skye and Fitz in particular –but she had never provided any information, always somehow managing to turn the conversation in a completely different direction.

He makes sure his face is completely neutral as Coulson turns back toward him, the hard stare returning. He pulls out the chair Gayle had previously been occupying and sits himself in it. There’s a pause as the two men stare each other down, Ward determined not to show any weakness and Coulson adamant to show just how unaffected he is by Ward’s presence. It seems to last longer than it actually does- three seconds –before Coulson breaks the silence.

“I have some questions.”

“I already told you everything I know” Ward quickly counters, voice even despite the distress settling in his chest. It’s true, though- it hadn’t taken much convincing on their part for him to spill everything he knew about Hydra. He really couldn’t care less about the Nazi organization. His loyalty had been to Garrett and Garrett had been using Hydra simply as a means to an end. He isn’t sure exactly how useful his information was; he had never been interested enough to ask that many questions, and he had always trusted Garrett to tell him what he needed to know.

It’s a funny thought now.

“What do you know about Skye’s parents?”

The question catches Ward so off guard, that his brow furrows and a word slips out before he can stop it: “Why?”

It’s odd, seeing Coulson so emotionless. “Answer the question.”

Ward eyes him for a moment, before releasing a sigh and leaning back slightly in his chair. “Raina told me a story about a village in China murdered by a couple monsters looking for their baby.”

“That’s it?” Ward nods and disappointment flashes across Coulson’s face. Apparently, this wasn’t new information anymore. Ward glances at Gayle, who’s watching the interaction with a studious expression, before turning his attention back to Coulson.

“Why are you asking me this?” He manages to clamp his mouth shut before the word _sir_ slips out. It’d become a habit, instinct almost, over the months he’d spent with the team.

There’s a pause, probably Coulson debating on whether or not to answer him, before the man speaks. “We received a… message from Raina. We’re to hand over Skye or ‘he’ll find her.’” Coulson’s voice takes on a threatening tone that, for the first time today, isn’t directed at him.

The instinct to protect Skye flashes through Ward so strongly that, for a moment, he has to remind himself that he no longer has a place in her life; that, last he saw her, he was the one she needed protection from.

Raina’s words flash through his mind: _“Maybe you two can be monsters together.”_ It’d been tempting at the time, a string of tainted hope offered to him when everything was falling apart before his eyes. He doesn’t want it, though, not anymore. Not with this empty feeling that’s been coursing through him for six months. He misses the rage, honestly. He won’t let Skye be ruined the way he was. Well, he won’t if he had the power to stop it.

He doesn’t voice his thoughts, though. Coulson doesn’t care. The older agent probably wanted to keep Skye as far away as possible from Ward.

Gayle clears her throat slightly, catching Ward’s attention. Coulson blinks and suddenly his gaze is pinning Ward to the chair.

“Dr. Gayle has put in a suggestion of… community service for you. She seems to think it’d be good for you to spend some time with the team. Help figure out who you are.” Coulson’s tone is matter-of-fact and Ward can’t figure out the man’s feelings toward the idea. He’s probably against it, though. Ward notices Gayle’s eyebrow twitch, but her expression remains one of professionalism.

It’s when Coulson doesn’t continue, though, that he knows that the idea isn’t closed. It’s open, and being offered. He wants to bang his head against the wall until it’s a bloody mess because there are a million reasons why he shouldn’t do it, but all he can seem to focus on are the reasons why he should. He could protect Skye- she hates him. He could apologize for everything- for nothing. He could be given orders again- and never trusted with them.

He doesn’t look to Gayle, knowing that she’d offer no guidance. She’d told him once that he needed to learn how to make choices, though he thought he’d been making them his whole life. She’d simply asked him how many of those “choices” held no outside influence and he’d scoffed to hide the fact that he had no real response.

He’s been staring at Coulson and Coulson’s been staring back, both trying to get a read on each other. Ward can’t tell what the man wants- for him to decline or accept.

“What exactly are you asking?” He needs to know. He needs to collect all the variables and make an assessment. He can’t think like Grant Ward. He has to think like Agent Ward, though he’s pretty sure he was stripped of that title long ago.

“You return to the team under heavy probation, and you follow my every order.” Coulson cuts him with a look that threatens hell should he do any different. The look would be intimidating if Ward hadn’t already been through Hell.

He thinks about Skye and he almost says “I want to help.” He thinks about how he doesn’t deserve to see any of them again and he almost says “no thank you.” He thinks about Fitz and how he’ll “never be the same” and what that could possibly mean and he almost cries out with frustration.

Then he wishes he would stop thinking. “Alright.”

Coulson heaves a small sigh, leans back in his chair, and gives a nod. “Alright.” Gayle gives a tight-lipped smile in the corner. Coulson stands up then and readjusts his suit, before taking out a box from his pocket and sliding it across the table toward Ward. “Put this on.”

Raising an eyebrow, Ward leans forward and grabs the box. He opens it to reveal a bracelet, similar to the one Skye had worn after the incident with Miles. He can’t help but quip: “Afraid I’ll hack something?”

“It’s a little different than that.” Coulson offers no further explanation and Ward decides it’s best not to ask for one. Instead, he slips the bracelet on obediently and stands up when Coulson goes for the door. Coulson slips silently out the door, but Ward hesitates, turning toward Gayle.

The woman gives a friendly smile, as if she was an average psychologist and he was an average patient. “I’ve asked Coulson to give me the occasional update.” She shrugs casually and her gaze turns amused, almost smug. “Looks like you finally managed to get rid of me, though.” This relieves yet distresses him at the same time and he isn’t sure why or if he wants to know why.

“Why?” he blurts, voicing the thought that’d been in his mind since the beginning. Frustration seeps into his tone because _why_ did she choose him? _Why_ did she feed him some bullshit line about enjoying challenges? _Why_ did he let her get into his head and make him question even his questions?

She knows what he’s talking about, though, and is seemingly un-phased by his frustration. “Because I believe in shades of grey and second chances. You’re as much a victim as you are a perpetrator, Grant. Maybe even more so.”

_Victim_.

_Broken._

He hates the terms she labels him with. And he hates how his denial only seems to make her all the more right. 

* * *

 

He’s pretty sure the ride to the Bus is one of the most uncomfortable of his life. Unlike the last time they had taken a car ride together, - he, briefly, wonders about Lola and if she’s been repaired -Coulson doesn’t try to make friendly small talk. Instead, the man is quiet, the only sound being that of the classical radio station he has it turned to. It makes him want to ask about the Cellist, but he knows he’s long lost the privilege to any of his former teammates’ personal information.

The Bus comes into sight and he clenches his fists, the irrational urge to bolt coursing through him. Breathing becomes slightly more difficult, but he pushes through it. He can’t be a coward anymore. Besides, something had always told him that he’d have to face this eventually.

He has to ask, though: “Did you tell them?”

“Kind of.” _That’s_ reassuring. And then, suddenly, he sees a glimpse of the old Coulson, expression and tone light, despite the obvious tension. “Don’t worry; I’m pretty sure May’s not going to punch you again.”

Ward barely resists a grimace, though he’s pretty sure he may deserve a few more punches. He knows it’s a bad thought- Gayle had once told him that she’d sooner send him to the corner like a five-year-old than recommend physical punishment –but he doesn’t care. At this point, he’d accept whatever the team saw fit to help them deal with it. If they need to hit him to feel more at peace, then so be it.

The car pulls up the ramp and into the Bus. He glances at Lola and sees that she looks completely undamaged, as if the whole ordeal had never happened. He’s glad that something had at least managed to get repaired.

But then Coulson cuts the ignition and climbs out of the car and Ward wonders if it’s too late to ask for a do-over. He follows a moment later, exiting the car-

And coming face to face with Melinda May. Her arms are crossed over her chest and she stands in her usual stance, ready for anything. Her eyes are narrowed the slightest bit, but other than that, she’s emotionless. He can tell that she’s imagining ripping out his intestines, though, or maybe just rupturing his larynx again. He waits for her to say something, a threat, or maybe voice her displeasure over the situation. Instead, she merely glances at Coulson, who returns the glance and if Ward were to try hard enough, he could almost pretend it was the old times again.

“What’s _he_ doing here?”

And suddenly there’s a burning sensation flowing through his chest- somewhere between pain and longing. He can’t help it as his head snaps up to look at her at the top of the spiral staircase. Her face shows her complete disbelief and she can’t seem to decide who to direct her glare at- him or Coulson. He can’t believe it’s been six months since he last saw her; it feels more like six decades. Her eyes still hold that ferocity he could never help but admire. Her hair still flows past her shoulders, but it’s gained a few inches. His hand twitches faintly as he remembers the feel of it between his fingers.

Then she’s moving down the staircase and he realizes he’s been staring. He averts his gaze to Simmons for a moment, who’s trailing behind Skye. There’s a raw fear in her eyes that he knows she’s valiantly trying to hide and guilt settles in his gut.

Skye reaches them, crossing her arms over her chest defiantly, and Coulson sighs as he approaches her.

“His psychologist suggested that he spend time with us, under heavy probation” the man explains and for the first time, Ward wonders if Gayle actually has a single degree in psychology, because there’s no way this is a good idea.

Skye seems to share the sentiment, raising an eyebrow dubiously. “His psychologist?” She glances at him and he sees doubt flicker in her gaze before it’s gone. He’s not sure what exactly she doubts: that he has a psychologist or that the psychologist recommended this.

Coulson nods. “One of SHIELD’s best.’

Her lips thin out thoughtfully, before an irritated exasperation overcomes her. “So, what, he’s just going to be hanging around here? Helping out? Just like old times?” Her sarcasm is thick.

“We can’t trust him like that!” Simmons pipes, shifting nervously. Ward wants to point out that he’s standing right there, not two feet away, but doesn’t. They’re handling this better than he had thought they would, honestly. He’d expected more flying curses, and maybe even fists.

“I’ve got that covered” Coulson says and Ward’s pretty sure he’s referring to the mysterious bracelet. Skye doesn’t seem satisfied in the slightest with that response, but she probably knows she isn’t going to get anything else, so she turns her attention to Ward. She walks up to him, glare piercing, and before he knows it, there’s only a few inches of space between them. She’s probably trying to be intimidating, but her height kind of negates the effort.

“So, did you _willing_ to choose to come hang out with your old buddies or are you just as unwilling a participant as we are?” She gives a tight smile that adds a bite to her sarcasm. Ward eyes her for a moment, remembering the days when her eyes were a source of warmth in his cold existence. Now, it seems like her fire for him has been stomped out. He tells himself that’s how it should be and there’s no practical reason to mourn for it.

“I chose this” he replies eventually, quietly.

She acts as if that’s what she’d been expecting, though her anger only seems to increase. “Are you a masochist?”

He bites his cheek to keep from responding, because he isn’t so sure what the answer is. After a moment of no response from him, Skye huffs and rolls her eyes, turning away and walking over to Simmons’ side. Coulson glances between the group, each female glaring at Ward and Ward looking as emotionless as possible.

Coulson clears his throat finally, before gesturing for Ward to follow him as he makes his way up the stairs. The others follow as well, and Ward gets the feeling he’s never going to get a private moment for a long time. “Trip’s staying in your old bunk, so you’ll have to sleep on the couch” Coulson says as the reach the living room area.

“No one’s going to slit my throat in my sleep, I hope.” The joke comes out deadpan as usual and without thought. He’s falling into the old routine and that frustrates him.

The only response is an oddly disconcerting smirk from May. Coulson pauses only slightly, the only indication that he had heard Ward at all, before continuing on to the mission room. As they reach the room, Ward glances around, the absence of one person becoming more and more troublesome with each passing minute. Surely, Fitz wouldn’t have left Simmons’ side for this long? Skye notices, of course, and seems to guess his thoughts.

“Looking for Fitz?” Her tone is bitter and full of accusation. Simmons sniffles and glances away. “Look in the med-pod. He hasn’t woken up yet.”

The world narrows and begins to tilt for a moment. No, he hadn’t wanted that, not even close. “It was supposed to float!” he wants to scream, but doesn’t. He’d already told Gayle that, so he’s sure it’s in his file. A bitter taste settles on his tongue, because it _figures_. He’d inadvertently ruined Buddy’s chances, just as he had inadvertently ruined Fitzsimmons’ lives. His best intentions always seem to bring disaster.

A heavy silence settles over the group then and he’s pretty sure he won’t be allowed within thirty feet of the med-pod. Coulson, though, perhaps out of mercy or a need to get this over with, breaks the silence.

“I already told you about the current situation. Questions?”

He goes into agent mode immediately, doing his best to ignore how clear it was that everyone in the room despises him. “What kind of message was it?”

“Personal” Coulson replies, tapping on the table and bringing up an image on the screen. Raina sits in the interrogation room, looking as relaxed as ever. Ward briefly wonders if the fact that she’s there is the only reason that room wasn’t assigned as his sleeping quarters.

“Do you-” he almost says _we_ , but knows that’s a bad idea –“have a plan?”

Coulson shakes his head. “Short of trying to figure out what exactly we’re dealing with.”

“Actually-” Skye starts, but May doesn’t give her the chance to finish.

“It’s out of the question.” The woman’s tone is hard, suggesting this is an old subject. Ward’s brow furrows in clear question, but both women ignore him and no one else offers an explanation. His jaw clenches. This isn’t going to be easy, but then again, he hadn’t expected it to be.

They all whip their heads around at the sound of someone approaching.

“Alright, I got the takeout. Did I ever mention how damn picky some of you are?” Trip looks up from the fast food in his arms and freezes as he catches sight of Ward. He glances at the faces of the others questioningly. “What’d I miss?” 

* * *

 

Hours later, Coulson sits in his office. He rubs a hand down his face tiredly as he stares at the paperwork before him. He’s almost relieved when a knock sounds on his door. “Come in.”

He doesn’t look up as May enters, shutting the door behind her. “This is a mistake.”

He finally looks up from the papers and threads his fingers together. “Not yet.”

“Then it’s a risk. A big one.”

He gives a small shrug. “His psychologist-”

“His psychologist recommended he spend some time under the supervision of a SHIELD agent. _You_ insisted it be you.”

He frowns slightly and turns his attention to the window. “I took a look at his file and I had some time to think…”

“Maybe you should stop doing that.” Her tone is softer now and Coulson looks to her. After a moment, the corners of his lips twitch up into a small smile.

“Maybe. Guess we’ll have to wait and see.”

_“Your eyes, they shine so bright_

_I wanna save that light_

_I can't escape this now_

_Unless you show me how”_


	2. Say Something

_“And I will stumble and fall_

_I'm still learning to love_

_Just starting to crawl”_

He can’t sleep. This isn’t a new occurrence, of course, but he admits there was a small part of him hoping that would change. The couch is ten times more comfortable than the cot he’d slept on in the prison, and the blanket is actually thick enough to provide some insulation. He knows, though, that the sleeping arrangements make little difference. If he wanted, he could’ve slept just as easily on a cold, hard floor if needed. No, it’s his mind that keeps him awake. Thoughts that he had managed to push to the side until now are back with a vengeance. That, and he can’t seem to get May’s smirk out of his head. He supposes if she does slit his throat, it would be a sort of mercy. But that would stain the couch and Coulson wouldn’t be happy about that.

With a small sigh of frustration, he throws the blanket off and sits up. He runs his hands down his face and then through his hair. He finds his eyes inadvertently moving to the door of Skye’s bunk. He wonders if she still has that hula girl from her van, or if it was a casualty from the shootout in the Hub. He wonders if she’s even asleep right now, or if she’s on her laptop doing whatever the hell it is she does on that thing. He wonders if he were to knock, if she’d even open the door. She probably wouldn’t, shouldn’t.

He stands up and glances around. He’s afraid that if he were to take a single step in the wrong direction, someone- May, probably –would jump out and knock him on his ass. But nothing happens, so he starts walking, quietly, as if going through enemy hallways. He doesn’t know if that’s right, though. On the other hand, he knows they’re not _friendly_ hallways, so best to practice caution anyway.

He doesn’t _exactly_ realize where he’s going- though he has an idea –until he gets there. He stops a few feet outside the med-pod, looking in. He remembers when it had been Skye in there, barely holding onto life, and him barely holding onto his sanity. Now it’s Fitz, lying in the bed with a tube sticking out of his mouth and more wires and IVs than Ward wants to count. Simmons is curled up against her friend’s side. She probably hasn’t slept in her own bunk for six months. He’d almost forgotten how small she is, fragile. He thinks about her and Fitz tumbling around in that box as it drops to the ocean and he wants to vomit.

Simmons stirs and blinks awake, rubbing a fist against one of her eyes sleepily. She looks around, but he’s already gone. 

* * *

 

He manages to catch about an hour of light sleep. When he wakes, the sun is just rising above the clouds, casting a dim light through the plane. He swings his legs over the edge of the couch and rubs his eyes, but pauses when he notices that he isn’t alone. Trip sits in a plush chair, legs crossed, a gossip magazine in hand, and a steaming mug of coffee on the coffee table in front of him. He looks to Ward and raises an eyebrow.

“You look like the walking dead.” Ward grunts, but doesn’t comment, though he wants to say that he feels like it too. Instead, he eyes the gossip magazine questioningly. Trip notices and smirks, barely a hint of embarrassment. “We’re a little low on reading supplies. We sent Skye out and she came back with these things.” He waves the magazine for emphasis. “Though this one is better than the one about aliens possessing cows.” He flips through the pages. “It’s got this expose on Angelina Jolie. I mean, that woman’s a real talent. At first I didn’t get Skye’s girl crush on her, but now-” He cuts himself off, probably because Ward is staring straight ahead, eyes unfocused. He probably looks as if he had stopped paying attention, but no, he’s remembering the days when he was the one Skye shoved a gossip magazine in the face of and ranted about how criminally negligent it was for him to not know the difference between Tom Cruise and Orlando Bloom.

“Look, man,” Trip says, recapturing Ward’s attention. “I’m probably the least pissed at you out of this group, and that’s saying something ‘cause I am _pissed_.”

Ward tenses, preparing himself for a threat. “Your point?”

Trip eyes the man cautiously. “I’m saying that I’m going to treat you like a human being while you’re here, but if you do anything to threaten my team, I’ll be the first to drop your ass.” He pauses thoughtfully. “Well, maybe right behind May, probably.”

Ward stares at the man, wondering how things would’ve turned out if the roles had been reversed; if Ward had been the one with the strong foundation from the start. He supposes, he would make a rather similar threat. So, he nods, taking the threat seriously, if nothing else than to gain maybe an ounce of respect from Trip. After a moment, Trip nods back. Ward wonders if he should count this as a victory of sorts. He doesn’t know if this counts as the “common ground” Gayle had been talking about when she had lectured him on “conflict resolution that doesn’t involve fists.”

A bunk door opens and Ward knows which one before he even looks. Skye emerges, wearing a tank top and boy shorts. She doesn’t even look at him as she goes by, just pats Trip on the head like a puppy or something and makes her way into the bathroom. Trip smirks and Ward finds a juvenile part of him wondering what _exactly_ their relationship is, before he reminds himself that it’s none of his business and he really needs to stop caring. But he can’t, and he doesn’t think he ever will.

“Man, you really need to stop staring at her every time she’s in the room.”

He glares. “Why?” It’s a challenge and he knows he may be ruining whatever progress they may or may not have made. Trip just gives him a look, though, that suggests his IQ has gone down since last he checked.

“It’s creepy. And your face kind of looks like a lost puppy whenever you do it, so there’s that.”

Ward grimaces, before opening his mouth to retort, never mind the fact that he doesn’t actually have a retort in mind. He’s relieved, though, when Coulson interrupts, walking into the room.

“Time to start the day, people” Coulson announces. Ward hears a groan of protest from the bathroom. The corners of his lips twitch up ever-so-slightly, suspecting that Skye had probably been falling asleep on the toilet. The occurrence had caused her to be late to training on a few occasions. His almost-smile promptly drops at the thought, though. He stands up and looks to Coulson as the man approaches him, adjusting his cuffs. “Sleep well?”

The question is so casual and normal that Ward blinks. The only thing that keeps him from gawking like an idiot is that there _is_ an edge to Coulson’s tone that hadn’t been there before. It’s barely discernible, but he catches it and holds onto it, letting it ground him to reality. This isn’t a dream, or a formerly lost memory. This is the consequence of his actions.

He gives a small nod and lies: “Yes.” He knows that Coulson sees right through the lie, but the man doesn’t show it, simply nodding and heading toward the mission room.

“Mission room in five, everyone.”

Ward watches him go for a moment, before turning as the bathroom door opens. Skye comes out, eyes rooted straight ahead on anything but him like before. He figures he should say something, like “morning”- she had once said that, unless it was Christmas, there was no such thing as a “good” morning –but the words get stuck in his throat and before he knows it, she’s in her bunk with the door closed behind her. He stares at the door for a moment, but is distracted as Simmons scurries past him to the mission room. He swallows and, for the hundredth time, wonders if coming here was the right decision. Probably not. This would probably turn into an example as to why he should never make any decisions ever. He always messes them up.

Like he messed up Fitz.

His face doesn’t betray the pain in his gut, slowly traveling up to his chest, as he walks up to the mission room. Everyone’s there already except for Skye, who comes a moment later, fully dressed in flannel and a rugged pair of jeans. So little has changed and he hates it, because everything _has_ changed, just not the small, seemingly insignificant things. It shouldn’t be so easy for him to fall into his old mindset. It shouldn’t be so easy for him to almost forget all of the destruction that has occurred since he was last in this room with these people.

Skye gives him a wide berth and stands on the other side of the table where the others are at, creating a visible distance between themselves and Ward. He’s not sure which ones are doing it on purpose and which ones were doing it simply from their subconscious. He wouldn’t be surprised if all of them were the former. Coulson stands in the middle, though, and is most likely pretending not to notice the glaring divide. He taps the table and the video feed of Raina comes onto the screen. She’s still sitting in the interrogation room, examining her nails. Coulson sighs.

“I had hoped leaving her in there overnight would show us some cracks” he says, obviously disappointed, though Ward doubts the man had ever really had much hope in that plan.

“You already tried interrogating her?” Ward questions. He notices Skye shoot him a _no duh_ look and he decides to just be glad that she looked at him at all. Coulson nods.

“We questioned her. We’ve thought of perhaps taking a physical approach, but I don’t want to go that route unless I know it’ll be effective.”

Ward looks thoughtfully at the screen. He hesitates only slightly, already imagining the numerous objections. “I can try talking to her.”

Skye surprises him by biting her lip and holding in an obvious retort that’s on the tip of her tongue. Coulson merely looks at him questioningly. “You think it would help?”

Ward shrugs. He can make no guarantees. “She was willing to talk to me about it before.”

Coulson looks around the room, as if to see if anyone has any reasonable objections. When no one voices any, his eyes land on May, who merely shrugs. He then turns his attention back to Ward and gives a small shrug of his own. “Couldn’t hurt.” His gaze hardens slightly. “We’ll be watching. Full audio.”

Ward nods. He wants to tell Coulson that the last person he would conspire with is Raina, but doesn’t. He resists the urge to glance at the faces of the others, before making his way to the interrogation room. He steels himself, making sure his face resembles that of Agent Grant Ward: invulnerable, deadly.

Robotic.

He opens the door and instantly makes eye contact with Raina. She gives him a slow smile as he closes the door behind him.

“Are you here to break me out again?” Her tone is lazy, yet sultry. She hasn’t changed one bit. Good. Hopefully, that should give him some sort of advantage.

“No” he says, giving a small smirk. He walks over and stops across the table from her. He remains standing and crosses his arms over his chest. She doesn’t seem surprised by his answer, though, as her eyes flicker briefly to the bracelet on his wrist, before returning her eyes to his. Her gaze seems to pierce right through him, forcing its way through his center and digging up things he didn’t know were hidden. It reminds him of Gayle, slightly, except more calculating and less comforting. He imagines a psychological duke-out between the two women and almost smiles.

His expression remains completely indifferent.

“You really need to make up your mind as to whose side you’re on, Agent Ward.” She sounds almost sympathetic and he resists the urge to scoff.

He raises his eyebrows slightly and shifts a step to his right. He needs to appear at ease, as if he’s in control of the entire room. “I’m not on your side, that’s for sure.”

She raises her eyebrows slightly. “Oh? Is that the only thing you’re certain of?”

His jaw flexes before he can stop it. Dammit. He needs to get this on track. They need to be discussing Skye’s parents, not his irrelevant issues. “What do you know about Skye’s parents?” He takes two steps to his left.

She gives a nonchalant shrug. “Just that they’re monsters, kind of like you.” She tilts her head to the side. “They’re what Skye will become.”

 _Like hell_ , he thinks, resisting a sneer. His face must give something away, though, because her eyes widen with curiosity.

“Do you not want that anymore? To be monsters together?” His fists clench against his arms. He doesn’t want to talk about this. Not with Raina and definitely not with the whole team watching.

He needs to direct this conversation. “You came with a message. Obviously, you’ve had contact with them.”

“We’ve all had contact with him at some point in our lives.” He gives her a cautious, questioning look. She leans back in her chair, a small, almost smug smile flitting across her face. “The boogeyman is real, Agent Ward. He lives in each and every one of us.”

What the _hell_ is that supposed to mean?

He doesn’t have time to ask, though, as the plane shakes slightly. He would’ve attributed it to nothing more than mild turbulence, was it not for the gleam that was now in Raina’s eyes. It sets him instantly on edge. Something is happening.

“What’s happening?” he barks, slamming his hands down on the table. There’s a threat imminent and he needs to be prepared. Raina is unaffected, though, staring up at him with a worshipful expression that he knows isn’t for him.

“Message number two.”

He swallows and turns around just as the door to the room comes flying open, revealing Coulson. The man’s expression screams “ _danger_.” “Get out here now.”

Ward doesn’t hesitate, casting Raina one last dark look, though, before shutting the door behind him and following Coulson. “What’s happening?”

“We’re being boarded. And I didn’t authorize it.”

“What? How is that possible?”

“Don’t know. We’ll figure it out later, though.” They reach the armory, where everyone’s grabbing a weapon. Coulson grabs an ICER and tosses it to Ward, who catches it cleanly. He drops the ICER almost immediately, though, because his entire arm is suddenly _throbbing_ and his hand is refusing to move. He lets out a small choking sound at the unexpected pain, catching everyone’s attention for a moment. “Oops.” Coulson takes out his phone quickly and taps the screen a few times. The pain suddenly evaporates and his hand is working again. “My bad.”

Ward stares at the man, dumbfounded, and swallows his irrational anger. “What was that?” Did May just smirk? He’s pretty sure May just smirked.

“A precaution. I forgot to set it to numb. Sorry.” He can’t tell if Coulson is actually apologetic or not, but decides it doesn’t matter; especially when he hears the boarding door burst open. He grabs the ICER off the ground and unlocks the safety.

“May, go to the cockpit and see if there’s any way to get them off our back,” Coulson orders. “The rest of us, hold them off. If you see an opportunity to subdue, take it.” They all nod, but Ward can’t help but pause when he notices an absence.

“Where’s Simmons?”

“Med-pod,” Skye replies curtly, shooting him a glare as she loads the magazine into her ICER. “Really think she’d leave Fitz’s side at a time like this?” _Like you?_ is left unsaid.

 _Of course not_ , he wants to say, but doesn’t, because it was a rhetorical question and now is really _not_ the time for this.

Coulson leads the way, but as soon as they round the corner, they’re under fire. Ward dives behind the couch. Trip and Coulson stay in the hallways, taking cover in a doorway, while Skye ducks behind a chair. Her face is determined, not a trace of fear, and Ward wonders how many shootouts she’s been in in the last six months. Her grip on the ICER is steadier, more sure than when he last saw her with one. He wonders, briefly, who’s been training her. Probably May, or a group effort, perhaps.

Then he stops thinking and allows himself to go off of instinct, firing back. He hasn’t fired an ICER or any other weapon for six months, and it’s relieving in a way. While it’s no punching bag, it’s an outlet. It’s also one of the few things he _knows_ he’s good at. This is proven when he nails one of the intruders in the forehead, instantly knocking the man unconscious.

“Well, this is slightly familiar.” He hears Coulson quip and he can’t help but flashback to Peru as well.

“Do you know these men?” Ward questions above the gunfire. He himself doesn’t recognize them. They look as if they could be a part of some biker gang, with the tattoos along their muscled arms. Above their waists, they wear nothing but bulletproof vests. He looks for some sort of symbol or logo to signify their alliance, but sees none.

“Not that I recall” Coulson replies. It still amazes Ward, sometimes, how calm Coulson can be in the middle of chaos.

And then he’s out of ammo. He knows the others will be out soon too, if he’s been keeping correct track of the numbers of shots they’ve fired. He watches as Skye fires her ICER straight into the throat of one of the men. It seems her aim has improved as well, he notes absently.

His main focus is on the current situation, though, and assessing the variables. He hears a curse from Trip and something about how this is why more frequent supply runs are necessary, and assumes the man has ran out of ammo as well. He glances behind him quickly to also take note of Coulson’s displeased face and knows this is soon about to become a fistfight. He turns to Skye just as her ICER runs out.

“They have a connection to Raina. Go watch her.” He realizes his mistake a second too late, but in his defense, it’s the middle of a battle and he’s going off instinct. Still, she looks to Coulson for confirmation that she wouldn’t have needed over six months ago. The man gives a curt nod and Skye slips away toward the interrogation room.

That’s just as Coulson runs out of ammo as well, tossing the empty ICER to the side carelessly before rolling up his sleeves. He glances at Ward. “Ready to fight for the right side this time?”

Ward doesn’t respond. Instead, it’s Trip who speaks. “Guy with the least knockouts gets the takeout next time, ok?”

And then Ward’s hurtling himself over the couch toward the closest man. He slams the butt of his empty ICER against the man’s face, a crack echoing as the man’s nose breaks. Before the man can even finish stumbling backward, Ward is turning, free hand grabbing the machine gun and ripping it from the man’s grip. His elbow connects with the man’s temple in a harsh blow, effectively knocking him out.

He sets his sights on his next target then, ducking and rolling to avoid the gunfire. He then rears up, grabbing the man’s leg and pulling it out from under him. As the man falls, he grabs the machine gun. He then places his foot firmly on the man’s chest, before slamming the butt of the machine gun into the man’s face to knock him out.

His head whips up as he notices one man making a run for it in the direction of the med-pod. His vision narrows. There’s no way he’s letting that man reach the med-pod. He doesn’t hesitate as he gives chase. He forces his legs to carry him faster as he hears Simmons scream.

He has to pause, however, at the sight that greets him when he reaches the med-pod. The intruder is lying limply on the ground and Simmons is standing over him, shaking and holding a fire extinguisher. For the briefest of seconds, he allows himself to be almost proud.

But Simmons hasn’t stopped shaking and he has the impractical sense that she’s about to break. “Simmons.” She jumps, letting out a yelp, and raises the fire extinguisher. For a second, he thinks she’s actually about to hit him with it, but she doesn’t. The fear in her eyes doesn’t fade, though. He needs to her to focus and he knows the only thing that can do that is what no doubt brought the panic on in the first place. “Is Fitz alright?”

She nods hesitantly, but he can see her eyes already calming. She glances at the fire extinguisher, before setting it down and hurrying back to Fitz’s side. He watches for a moment- he doesn’t hear anymore gunfire, so he’s pretty sure the fight is over –before turning around and heading back toward the site of the main fight. The adrenaline is leaving his body quickly, leaving a sort of nauseous feeling behind. He doesn’t understand it. Before, after a fight, he’d been able to shove his emotions away for later when he had a shot of whiskey. Now, though, he has the urge to hide in a dark corner away from everyone and everything for a few hours.

He reaches the area and takes a look around, surveying the damage. The walls are peppered with bullet holes and the furniture is butchered, including the couch but that’s fine. He’ll sleep on the floor if he needs to. He glances over the unconscious bodies. They’re all breathing and don’t appear to have any permanent injuries, which is the best he can say for them. He then surveys Coulson and Trip, finding himself relieved when it appears the worst injury is a blossoming bruise on Coulson’s cheek. He wonders which of the men gave it to him so he could give _them_ a permanent injury and then wonders where that thought came from. He knows he had starts to care for the team early on, but after Garrett’s reveal, he had managed to do a decent job of shoving those feelings- most of them, anyway –to the side. It seems it was a temporary fix, though.

His attention is caught when May approaches, dragging an unconscious man behind her. Trip _tsks_.

“I told that guy not to go to the cockpit” he says, shaking his head ruefully, despite the smirk on his face. Ward almost smiles.

“What’s the damage?” Coulson questions, turning to May. She opens her mouth to reply, but is interrupted.

“We’ve got a problem” Skye says as everyone turns to see her approach. Her face is angry and her body language agitated. “Raina’s gone.” There’s the briefest of pauses as they all process this.

“What?” Coulson demands. Skye throws her hands into the air frustratedly.

“I heard a loud noise from inside and I opened the door and someone had opened the ceiling. Her handcuffs were undone too, so…”

“So either she let herself out or someone else did” May finishes. A small sigh escapes her. “We fell for the distraction.”

“In all fairness, the distraction had guns” Trip points out. Coulson frowns and turns to May.

“Any idea how they were able to board our plane?”

“I went to the control room. I think they may have hacked the system somehow.” Ward remembers a time long ago when all eyes would have landed on Skye. Now, they land on him.

“What a coinky-dink” Skye says, crossing her arms over her chest. Her sarcasm has returned. Ward’s teeth grind. He shouldn’t be irritated at her- he knows he deserves every bit of it –but he’s tired and nauseous and doesn’t want to deal with this.

“I didn’t have anything to do with this.” He tries to keep his voice even, but there’s a warning in the edge of his voice: _Drop it_. The atmosphere is suddenly tense and he’s sure May is currently counting all the different ways to take him down before he can blink.

Skye scoffs. “Right, ‘cause you’re so trustworthy.”

“And how would I have accomplished something like that?” he demands, entire body turning toward her. “I’ve barely gotten a moment alone on this damn plane!” There are security cameras which he knows weren’t there before.

“Yeah and why is that?!” She’s in his face now, unconsciously leaning on her tip toes to lessen the height difference between them. He can feel her warmth and smell her shampoo. It smells like strawberries. He decides to hold his breath. “Besides, these guys show up right after you get here? And conveniently rescue your psycho girlfriend?”

 _Dammit, Skye_. “I’m not with Raina! In any way!” Anger rages inside him: anger at himself for being so weak, anger at her for making him have such _doubt_ , anger at Garrett for dragging him into this whole damn thing in the first place.

Then he’s angry because he’s never had that thought before.

“Enough!” Coulson orders angrily. There’s a beat, before Skye backs up a few steps. Her glare doesn’t waver, however. Ward watches her, before letting out the breath he’d been holding and averting his gaze. “Jumping to conclusions isn’t going to help us here.” Coulson turns his eyes to Skye. “Get on your computer and see if you can figure out how they did it.” There’s still anger gleaming in her eyes when she turns around and goes to do as told. Coulson watches her go, confliction flashing across his face, before turning to the others and motioning toward the unconscious bodies with his head. “Let’s get these guys in the interrogation room. Then you guys can give me your orders for takeout.” May raises an eyebrow, but doesn’t question it. 

* * *

 

Ward leans against the wall of the hallway, arms crossed over his chest, and watches as the last intruder is dragged into the interrogation room. Trip rubs his stomach, most likely hungry, and walks off. May simply glances at Ward before walking off. Coulson exits the interrogation room, shutting the door behind him. He heaves a small sigh and leans against the wall next to Ward, who’s suddenly afraid to move and break the surprising camaraderie in the action.

“Your psychologist is going to be angry with me” Coulson says, tone conversational like days long past. Ward frowns questioningly. “She didn’t want you involved in heavy combat for another month or two.”

He resists the urge to roll his eyes. Of course she didn’t. “I’m fine.” He isn’t, actually, but that doesn’t matter. Coulson doesn’t look entirely convinced, but apparently decides to let it go as the two lapse into silence.

“You didn’t bring anything from the prison. No belongings?” Coulson speaks, breaking the silence. For a moment, Ward’s confused by the unexpected question, before he rearranges his face and gives a shrug. The man’s right, though. The only belongings he has are the clothes he’s currently wearing, which were given to him when he left the prison. It’s the clothes he’d been wearing when they had arrested him. He had had a few books from Gayle, but had left them there, not seeing the point of bringing them and also assuming that they belonged to her. “We’re on route to the Playground-” _Where?_ “-right now. That’s where all of your old stuff is.”

He swallows, trying to rid the sudden lump in his throat. “Thank you.” He hesitates, before deciding to jump right in. “Sir.”

The corner of Coulson’s lips twitch and he can’t tell if the man is fighting a smile or a frown. He supposes it’s better than nothing, though. 

* * *

 

 

He decides he needs a drink when most everyone has already retired to their bunks. When he reaches the bar, however, he freezes. Skye sits at the bar, laptop in front of her and a glass of what he thinks is whiskey to the side. Her eyes never leave the screen, but he can tell by the way her shoulders tense, that she notices him. He turns around to simply walk away; she doesn’t want to be anywhere near him and he really doesn’t want to argue. He stops, though, jaw clenching and hands flexing. He can’t be a coward anymore. He needs to confront her, lay it all on the table. He realizes she may never understand- sometimes he doesn’t understand, himself –but he has to try. He has to give her all the pieces of the puzzle and let her make her decision then.

He turns back around and walks up to her, the bar providing the only separation. “Skye-”

“Turns out the hack signal originated from the interrogation room. Coulson thinks Raina may have been carrying something, but we searched her when we brought her in. My theory is that she went all cartel on us and swallowed something.” Her tone is matter-of-fact and her eyes never leave the screen of her laptop. He supposes it’s as close to an apology as he’s going to get, and accepts it greedily.

He nods. “Good theory.” It’s a half-lie, because he has some serious doubts, but he’s desperate. At this point, if it earned some of her mercy, she could say the sky is green and he’d agree. There’s a beat of silence, in which her body language is practically screaming _go away_ , but he decides to push through it. “Look, Skye-”

“I don’t want to hear it” she snaps, gaze finally connecting with his. Her eyes are blank and he wonders when such an open girl became so good at hiding. She closes her laptop, before leaning forward slightly. “Just tell me, Ward: you supposedly regret your actions, but _when_ exactly was the first seed of regret, or doubt, planted?”

He stares at her and wonders what she’s trying to get at. He knows he has to be honest, though. That’s the least he can do for her. “After Peru.” His voice is quiet. He supposes that was the first moment. It was when he realized that maybe deceiving these people wouldn’t be so easy. That maybe he wouldn’t come out it nice and cleanly.

She has to look away for a moment, to control her anger it seems, before reconnecting gazes. There’s a fire brewing behind her eyes now. “You know that if you had come to me after that, or hell, after Garrett had revealed himself, I would’ve helped you.” There’s the slightest quiver to her voice and an empty feeling settling in his gut. “But no, you had to kill _Hand_ and _Keonig_ and who knows how many others! All for a deranged lunatic who didn’t give a damn about anyone but himself.”

He swallows. There’s a brick in his throat and a fist in his stomach. “You don’t understand-”

“No, I don’t.” Her eyes search his and he doesn’t know what she’s looking for. He wants to ask her, so he can give it to her. “Coulson thinks I should read your files; see what you psychologist has to say.” That doubt flickers in her gaze again and he wonders if he has to call Gayle up in order to prove he has an actual psychologist. Then again, he isn’t sure that having a psychologist is something he wants to flaunt around.

“Don’t” he says immediately. He doesn’t want her to see what the files contain. It’s bad enough that he’s sure Coulson’s seen it. He has to protect her from that, from seeing the real him. Even if he isn’t quite sure who that is anymore.

“Do you even realize what you _did_?” He can tell she’s trying to contain herself. “You _slept_ with May. You _trained_ me. All for some damn illusion!”

“It wasn’t all an illusion!” There’s a desperate edge to his voice and he clears his throat slightly, trying to withhold it.

That must’ve been the wrong thing to say, because her gaze instantly hardens and she’s almost seething. “Right. Your feelings for me. How you’ll never hurt me.”

“I wouldn’t.”

“Too late.”

He stares at her and he wants to scream into an abyss.

 

_“And I will swallow my pride_

_You're the one that I love_

_And I'm saying goodbye”_


	3. Battlefield

_“Don't try to explain your mind_

_I know what's happening here_

_One minute it's love and suddenly_

_It's like a battle-field”_  

They arrive at the Playground in the morning. Ward looks around as the ramp lowers. It reminds him a lot of the Providence base and he has to swallow down the memories. He goes to follow the others, but is stopped by Coulson putting a hand on his shoulder. He flinches at the unexpected contact. Aside from a scuffle or two with some other prisoners, he hadn’t been touched in six months- he doesn’t count the recent fight on the plane; that was targeted combat, an entirely different category. Gayle had never touched him and thinking back he doesn’t know if that was on purpose or not. The guards had been rather rough in the beginning, as well, but they had calmed down after a month or so. Coulson immediately removes his hand, though, and Ward is thankful that the man gives no other sign that he noticed the flinch.

“You should stay in the plane. I don’t want you running into Billy.”

He frowns, brow furrowing. “Who?”

“You killed his brother” May interjects blandly, walking by the two. Coulson sighs as he watches her go.

Ward’s jaw clenches and he simply nods. He doesn’t know which face flashing through his mind is that of Billy’s brother, but he suddenly wants to vomit. Or slam his head against a hard surface. Or both.

He watches the others walk off to collect the needed supplies, the captured intruders walking in a row between Trip and May. They’d been interrogated, but had provided little information of use. Most of their words had consisted of worshipful ramblings. Unlike Raina, though, there was clear fear behind their worship. They were more afraid of this monster they worship- who he assumes is Skye’s father, judging from the male pronoun they used –than they were of the team. That, of course, had hindered the interrogation greatly.

He’s briefly surprised that they have left him alone on the plane with Fitz. He knows better than to mistake it as trust, though. There are security cameras everywhere in the plane now except the bathroom and probably the bunks. He also wouldn’t be surprised if the bracelet has some counter measure to keep him a certain distance from Fitz. Nevertheless, by the time they’re all out of sight, he’s making his way to the med-pod. He needs answers to questions he’s been holding back.

He pauses just outside the med-pod, swallowing and trying his damnedest to push aside the crippling guilt he feels. It doesn’t work, but he forces himself into the small room anyway. He looks down at the young man, his _friend_ , who hadn’t wanted to give up on him. He wonders what Fitz’s opinion on that would be now, if he were conscious.

Fitz’s face is paler than usual and his curly hair slightly more unkempt. An image of his little brother struggling for air in the well flashes through Ward’s mind and his gut clenches. He swallows back the bile, before closing his eyes and letting out a breath. He needs to gain control and pull himself together. Letting the guilt get to him isn’t going to do Fitz any good now. He’d had the chance to help his friend and he had ended up ruining him. No, he can’t lose control; he has to assess the damage. He grabs Fitz’s chart and flips through it. The worst of the injuries Fitz had received was a broken arm, which is mostly healed now. Ward doesn’t understand the medical terms Simmons has scrawled throughout the chart, but he knows basic vitals. Fitz seems mostly stable. His brain activity is lower than average, though, to a concerning degree. It makes Ward want to throw the chart against the wall. Instead, he sets it back where he found it, and without a single glance back, heads toward the punching bag. 

* * *

 

“If you move any faster, you’re going to pull a muscle” Skye warns, watching Simmons as she stuffs various medical supplies into her bag. The biochemist pauses, glancing between the shelf of supplies and her bag, before turning her eyes to Skye.

“Sorry.”

Skye shakes her head, grabbing some ammo for the ICERs and putting it into her own bag. “It’s alright.” She knows why Simmons is in such a rush; she always seems to be in one, whenever there’s something that pulls her away from Fitz’s side for more than five minutes at a time. It probably doesn’t help, either, knowing that he’s alone in the Bus with Ward.

 _Ward_. Skye feels herself frown at the thought of him, cursing the extra _thump_ her heart gives, before turning her full focus to collecting the supplies. Maybe she has some sort of heart disease. That would certainly explain a lot. Except, she’s not an idiot and she knows she doesn’t have some heart disease. She knows exactly what she has. For the moment, though, she’ll allow herself to believe it’s hatred and not the opposite.

“It’s just that…” Simmons continues, hesitatingly.

“He’s alone with Ward?” Skye says before she can stop herself. She doesn’t want to talk about him. She’d much rather just pretend he doesn’t even exist. But she can’t, and that frustrates her. “Yeah. I know.”

May walks up to a nearby shelf at that moment and glances toward the two. “He’s not going to hurt Fitz.”

Skye turns to her. “How can you be sure?” She’s not defensive, or incredulous. She’s genuinely curious as to how May, of all people, can be so certain.

May lifts one shoulder in the slightest of shrugs. “Because it wouldn’t make sense strategically.”

Skye frowns. That wasn’t as comforting as she had hoped. “He’s _insane_.”

May gives a small, dry smile. “Ward’s a lot of things, but he’s not insane.”

“Not by the legal definition of the term, at the very least” Simmons interjects. Skye’s frown deepens as she looks between the two.

“Are you defending him? After what he’s done?” Ok, now she’s getting incredulous. Simmons flinches slightly and turns her full attention to the supplies. May takes a step forward toward Skye and there’s something about the woman’s body language that provides as much comfort as a hand on her shoulder would’ve.

“Or course not. We’re just being logical.” Skye lets out a breath, looking at the woman for a moment, before nodding slightly and turning her attention back to collecting supplies. May was right; they were being logical. She hates how the simple mention of Ward can get her so riled up. She needs to stop letting him affect her so much. If only she knew how to do that.

“I think the guy might deserve a chance” Trip says, joining the group and obviously having heard the conversation. Skye and Simmons look at him like he’s grown a second head. May’s face is blank.

“Are you serious?” Skye demands. “He’s killed people!”

Trip raises an eyebrow. “So have I, and Agent May, and Agent Coulson. For all I know, you’ve killed people too, Miss Mysterious Background.”

She would’ve stuck her tongue out at him, were it not for her disbelief at his words. “He tried to kill Fitz and Simmons!” Guilt nips at her when she sees Simmons pale slightly at the memory.

Trip grimaces, but doesn’t back down. “We all know that thing is supposed to float.” It had been in Simmons’ report of the incident that Fitz had said so.

“So? We don’t know if he knew that.” It’s faulty logic, but she doesn’t care. She’d won arguments with faultier logic before.

Trip holds his hands up in surrender. “Look, I’m not saying the guy deserves a clean slate or anything. I’m also not saying I trust him further than I can throw him. I’m just saying that maybe he deserves a bit of a chance.”

Skye stares at him for a moment in disbelief, before biting her lip and shaking her head as she turns away. “You didn’t know him.” Well, neither did she, it turned out. “He didn’t betray you like that.”

Trip shrugs, grabbing some ammo to put into his own bag. “I knew Garrett. And that son of a bitch could be persuasive.”

“I wonder if Ward’s ears are burning” Coulson comments, walking up to the group. Everyone except for May instantly glances away. “The plane’s fueled up. We’re ready to go when you’re all done here.”

Skye tries to reach some wrapping on a higher shelf, but is too short. May looks to Coulson. “To the Hunan province?”

Coulson grabs the wrapping and hands it to Skye, nodding. They all put their bags over their shoulders then and make their way toward the door. As the others exit, Skye stops May, who turns to her, a single eyebrow raised slightly in question.

“Why did he do it? Coulson, I mean. Why’d he agree to let Ward come back?” Skye questions, crossing her arms over her chest. May’s expression doesn’t change as she seems to think over her answer.

“He said he had time to think. He also read some reports from the psychologist” she says eventually. Skye feels the usual doubt flicker up in her at the mention of Ward’s psychologist. How bad were his issues? She still doesn’t know whether or not he lied about his brother and the rest of his horribly abusive family. Is it possible that, maybe, it isn’t as black and white as it seems?

 _Doesn’t matter_ , she tells herself. He made his choices, knowing full well the consequences. She had put her trust and faith in him and he had tossed it aside and stomped on it. She had opened up to him, allowed herself to be vulnerable, and he had stabbed her in the back.

There’s a grimace on her face as she follows May back to the plane. 

* * *

 

It’s warm when they touch down in the Hunan province. It took about a day’s flight and an hour drive, so the sun is beginning to set. Ward lets out a breath as he steps out of the car, instantly scanning over his surroundings. He and the rest of the team- minus Simmons, who had stayed behind on the Bus –receive a variety of looks from passersby, some even stopping to stare. He sees their lips moving and knows they’re murmuring about the team. Unfortunately, he doesn’t know any of the Chinese dialects, so he can’t read their lips.

“Alright,” Coulson says as they all gather on one side of the car. “Split up and see if there’s someone we can talk to. May, Trip, and Skye take the west. Ward and I will take the east.” They all nod, and May sends Coulson a cautious look, probably worried about him being alone with Ward, before walking their assigned directions. Ward follows Coulson obediently

“Are we looking for any type of person specifically, sir?” Ward questions, though he’s fairly sure he already knows the answer. Coulson glances at him, before shrugging.

“Someone who looks like they were here twenty-four years ago.” Ward nods. It’s a simple enough criteria and the answer he’d been expecting. He looks around as they walks, scanning faces. He encounters mostly young faces, having not been born then or too young to remember it. His brow furrows as a thought comes to mind.

“What if no one made it out? Raina did say the village was massacred.”

Coulson grimaces at the obvious problem. “Then we hope there’s someone around who heard of it or was nearby.”

Ward nods and they lapse into silence. He puts his full focus into catching every passing face. He watches as two children run by, giggling, and feels a small, sad smile flash across his face. He wonders what it’s like to be so innocent and almost envies them. He’s brought out of his thoughts, however, when Coulson speaks.

“The others were talking about you earlier.” The statement is delivered with Coulson’s usual nonchalance. Ward gives no reaction, aside from the slight flexing of his jaw. Of course they had been. He almost asks bitterly what they were saying, before deciding he really doesn’t want to know. He can make some good guesses, anyway, and he knows he deserves each and every remark they must’ve made. “They think I made a mistake bringing you back on.”

Of course they do. Ward himself doubts how sound a decision it was. It’s clear no one wants him there and he doesn’t see how his presence is helping in the slightest. It seems to only be causing more conflict. Still, he finds himself speaking, as if to clear the bitter taste off his tongue. “And you, sir?”

Coulson surprises him by turning to him and giving him a small smirk. “I’m waiting to see.” Ward stares at the man, brow furrowed with several questions. Why is he doing this? Especially since when he last saw him before all this, the man had been promising him torture. Surely, it’s only because Gayle had recommended it and she tends to be a hard woman to say no to. It seems to be a running trait in the women he associates with, he notes absently. He opens his mouth and is about to ask Coulson his questions, because dammit, he hates being so unsure, but is interrupted by static in his earpiece, signaling an incoming message.

“We found someone, sir. Small house at the end of the street” May’s voice says, filtering through the earpiece. Ward and Coulson exchange a glance as they pivot to head in the direction of the others.

“Got it. On our way” Coulson says. They walk quickly down the street, reaching the house fairly quickly. As they enter, Ward analyzes the variables. The team stands around in the room, their bodies all facing an old woman in the corner who sits in a rocking chair. They all glance up as Coulson and Ward enter.

“She says she lived just outside the village when the massacre happened” May says, gesturing to the old woman. She then turns her full attention onto the old woman, asking her a question in the native language. There’s a moment before the old woman begins to speak in an old, cracked voice, May translating the whole time. “She says the monsters had taken shelter in the village a few days before. There had been two, a man-like one and a woman-like one. They had a baby with them, who cried endlessly for days. Then, one day, they left the baby alone and some curious villagers went to investigate.” Everyone’s attention is riveted to the woman’s story, but Ward can’t help but glance at Skye. Her eyes are glossed over as she listens to the story. He can only imagine the amount of questions she no doubt has, or the emotions running through her. He wants to offer her his support, but he knows she wouldn’t accept it. He doubts it’s worth much anyway. “They were instantly enchanted by the child. She doesn’t know why, but the villagers took it upon themselves to protect the innocence of the baby from the two monsters. The monsters were infuriated.” The woman’s face darkens, her eyes deep with memories. Her next sentence is blunt, as if she doesn’t want to give any more details than necessary. There’s a pause, before May translates and Ward swallows, knowing this isn’t going to be good. “The monsters had an influence over the mind. The villagers ended up clawing themselves to death.”

Everyone tenses and he hears Skye suck in a breath. He barely resists the urge to just grab her right then and there and take her far, far away, where no one could ever harm her. He doesn’t know where that would be, but he’s sure he would find some place, even if he had to start from scratch in the middle of nowhere.

But she wouldn’t go with him, and he knows this.

The woman mutters something and May’s face darkens slightly. He wouldn’t have even noticed if he didn’t know her so well. Skye must notice as well, though, because her attention is suddenly snapped to May.

“What’d she say?” she demands. May looks at her, as if debating on whether or not to answer her, before she replies, voice tight.

“She said that they should’ve never tried to help the baby.” Skye pales slightly and he has to clench his fists and grind his teeth. He has to get her out of her. He doesn’t know how, but he has to convince her. He has to keep her safe.

They all whip around as the door opens. A teenage boy stands in the doorway, surprise on his face as he eyes each member of the team. “Who are you? What are you doing here?” Understanding seems to dawn on him. “Are you with the lady?”

“What lady?” Skye and Coulson ask at the same time, ‘causing them to glance at each other.

The boy furrows his brow in confusion. “The other American lady, in the flower dress.”

Ward’s surprise shows on his face before he can stop it, automatically turning to Coulson for orders, who looks equally as surprised. The older agent quickly goes into leader mode, though. “Trip and Ward, run perimeter and see if you can find her. If you do, radio in, but don’t engage unless necessary. We’ll stay here and see what else the woman knows.” The two agents nod, but Ward can’t help but glance back at Skye as he goes to leave. Her face is completely unreadable, but if he looks close enough he can see the turmoil brewing behind her eyes. He swallows, wanting nothing more than to stay and protect her from every possible danger. She has May and Coulson with her, though, and he knows she couldn’t be in better hands. Besides, he has to follow orders.

He forces his eyes from her and exits the house right behind Trip. They spread out slightly, one on either side of the street. They walk briskly, but casual enough to not gain any unwanted attention. He looks inside windows as he passes, knowing he can’t just enter people’s homes without drawing too much attention.

They’re about a block down when Ward pauses, catching what might’ve been a familiar head of hair enter a bar out of the corner of his eye. Trip notices his pause and jogs over to his side. Ward jerks his chin toward the bar. “In there. I think I saw something.” Trip nods and the two cross the street. They slip into the bar quietly and Ward scans the crowd.

He instantly makes eye contact with Raina. She’s sitting on a barstool at the bar, facing toward him. There’s a small, expectant smile on her face and he knows they were caught before they even entered the bar. Probably before they even touched down in China. He taps Trip to get his attention and both men instantly slip out their ICERs. They aim them directly at Raina as they make their way toward her.

“I think it’s time you all get heading home” Trip says casually, but loud enough for everyone in the room to hear. All of their eyes widen and some gasp with shock, most likely believing Ward and Trip to be holding actual guns, before quickly beginning to file out. Trip presses the communicator in his ear. “Sir, Raina spotted us. Bringing her in now.”

“Alright, be careful” Coulson’s voice filters through. Ward stops about a foot away from Raina, keeping his ICER aimed directly at her chest. She gives a friendly smile.

“Long time no see, Agent Ward” she says smoothly, blinking her wide eyes. He doesn’t think he’ll ever know how she has mastered a look of such calculated innocence.

“You knew we’d be here” Ward states and it’s a fact, not a question. Raina gives him a look of total innocence, like a child.

“Of course. It’s the only lead you have so far.” She gives a small, almost amused smile. “Besides, did you really think I’m so careless as to get captured by Coulson and his team again?”

He’s about to tell her that’s _exactly_ what’s happening, but Trip speaks and there’s a warning in his voice that instantly sets Ward on edge. “Ward.” And that’s when he notices that there are still civilians gathered around them and staring straight at them. He doesn’t have time to react as they all pull out guns, aiming straight at him and Trip. He curses himself for not noticing sooner. Stupid, stupid, stupid. Stupid and careless, that’s what he is. They’d walked right into a damn ambush.

His jaw clenches and he has the urge to wipe the small smirk right off Raina’s face. There are too many guns trained on them, though, and they’re spread too far apart throughout the room. He suspects he and Trip could probably take out most of them, but most of them isn’t enough.

Raina slips off the barstool and straightens out her dress. “If you’d be so kind as to drop your weapons.” There’s a pause as both men stare defiantly, before Trip lets out a resigned breath and they both hang their ICERs on their thumbs, before setting them on the floor and kicking them away.

“Alright, you’ve got us. Now what?” Trip asks, almost mockingly. He’s a mere step behind Ward, putting him out of his eye range. Nevertheless, Ward can practically feel Trip’s glare which, for once, isn’t directed at him. Raina spares Trip an uninterested glance, before focusing her eyes on Ward. She crosses her arms and takes a step forward, putting her in Ward’s personal space.

“It’s not about what I want. It’s about what he wants” she says, looking up at Ward. Her face tells him that this is all a matter of fact to her. He glares, but it seems to have no effect on her. “And what he wants is for you to hand Skye over to him.”

If it wasn’t for Trip being in the room, he would’ve damned it all to hell and snapped her neck by now.

“Not gonna happen” Trip replies, voice hard, and Ward’s never felt so appreciative of the man. A small frown flits across Raina’s face and he’s pretty sure it’s fake. He watches as she takes a step back, putting personal space between her and Ward again.

“Then I have to deliver message number three,” she says. “He’s getting impatient, you see.”

There’s a panic spreading through Ward’s chest, but he doesn’t show it. There’s something about the seriousness on Raina’s face that is sending dread coursing through his veins. This isn’t going to be like the other day, he realizes. They’re not going to walk away from this one so easily. Raina’s eyes travel to the window and Ward and Trip hesitate for a moment, before following her line of sight.

The ground quakes, there’s a bright light, and loud _boom_. He hears screams and it’s a second later when he realizes the house with the old woman has exploded.

_“One word turns into a war_

_Why is it the smallest things that tear us down?_

_My world's nothing when you gone_

_I'm out here without a shield_

_Can't go back now”_


	4. The Reason

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Possible trigger warning for suicide in this chapter jsyk. It's in the flashback.

_“I'm not a perfect person_

_There's many things I wish I didn't do_

_But I continue learning_

_I never meant to do those things to you"_

Trip lets out an obscene word and Ward’s already in motion, ripping a gun out of the hands of the nearest man, before swinging back around and pressing the barrel of the gun to the middle of Raina’s forehead, whose raised hand is the only thing keeping her men from shooting Ward and Trip on the spot.

“Let us go.” He barely recognizes his own voice. It’s mechanical and deadly and makes dark promises that he’s not afraid to keep. For a moment, he’s the robotic soldier John had tried to mold him into being. It’s almost funny, because it’s not for any reason John would’ve approved of. It’s all because he’s trying to keep his world from falling down around him a second time and he’s not playing any games and he _will_ put a bullet through Raina’s skull if he has to.

He already knows what it’s like to have nothing to live for and he doesn’t want to do it again.

 

_Gayle entered the infirmary room, her feet stomping harshly against the ground. She threw her bag into the chair across the room with such force that it skid a little. She must’ve been on her way to her office, he realized. She turned to him and, for the first time, he saw anger in her gaze. He’d seen her exasperated, even frustrated, but that was usually as far as negative emotions went with her. But now, now she was angry. And he wasn’t sure why, but he was sure he deserved it_

_“You knew that other prisoner had a knife.” It was a statement, a fact, not a question. He looked at her, not bothering to lie to her. She always seemed to call him out on it, anyway._

_He watched as she visibly worked on calming herself, letting out a deep breath and running a hand through her shoulder-length red hair. She then strode up to him, her eyes determined as if she’d found an obstacle she was hell-bent on overcoming._

_“You’re not a piece of shit, Grant.” He blinked, once, trying to comprehend her words and why she was saying them._

_"What?”_

_"You’ve done shitty things. Some of the shittiest of things. And you’ve been treated like shit your whole life. But none of that means your life is actually just some piece of shit you can throw away.”_

_He couldn’t remember hearing the word_ shit _so many times in one monologue before. “I wasn’t trying to kill myself.”_

_Her jaw set and she crossed her arms. “This time.”_

_Dammit, this wasn’t a conversation he wanted to have. Why couldn’t she just leave him alone? Why couldn’t she accept that all of her efforts were pointless? He couldn’t be “_ saved _.” There was no point to any of this and why the hell couldn’t she realize that?_

_"Why do you even care?” His voice came out harsh and almost incredulous. This woman hadn’t even known him for two months yet- what was her stake in this?_

_It almost looked like she wanted to roll her eyes as she cut him with a look, before raising an eyebrow. “You’re not the only one with a past, Grant, though I don’t make a claim on what you’ve endured. And also, I refuse to let_ you _ruin my perfect record. I became a psychologist for a reason.”_

_He scoffed. Of course she was more interested in his outcome professionally than personally._

_“I found my mother hanging from a ceiling fan.” His gaze snapped to hers, his face betraying the shock he felt at her sudden admission. She wasn’t distraught, though, merely somber. “So you’ll have to excuse me if I take your life_ very _seriously.”_

_There was a lump in his throat and he had to swallow before speaking. And when the words came out, they weren’t what he planned. “No one cares about me, though.” His life no longer affected anyone, so surely his death wouldn’t either._

_“No one wants to yet, there’s a difference.” He gave her a dubious look. Was questionable logic the best this pep talk was going to get?_

_Apparently so, because after a moment of silence, he was the next to talk, voice resigned. “So what now?”_

_She slumped down into the chair next to his bed. “Now, you heal from that nasty stab wound and I give you some advice on how to stay alive.”_

_He looked away, actually amused in the slightest bit, as a small, humorless smile crept onto his face. What could_ she _tell_ him _about surviving? Maybe some bullshit line of better days to come? “Oh?”_

_“Be selfish.”_

_His brow furrowed and he immediately looked to her. She seemed serious, but there was no way a trained psychologist who thus far seemed to be an alright person, was telling him to be_ selfish _. “Excuse me?”_

 _She looked around the room and gave a helpless shrug. “Since you can’t seem to find a_ selfless _reason to live, and you’re so damned sure everyone’s better off without you, be_ selfish _about it.”_

_His confusion only increased and his heart was pounding because he was pretty sure he didn’t know how to do what she was asking._

_She suddenly turned almost smug, leaning back in the chair. When she spoke, her tone was almost flippant. “What’s something you look forward to?”_

_He opened his mouth, before shutting it, because there weren’t any words for him to say. Had she just changed the subject? Either way, he didn’t have an answer. What was there for him to look forward to? The food sucked and what little sleep he had was usually plagued with nightmares. He’d been given no release date, and even if he had, what would he have done with himself afterwards?_

_Gayle seemed un-phased by his lack of an answer. “You enjoy reading, right?” He nodded, hesitantly, wondering where she was going with this. “There we go. Give me a list of books you want to read and I’ll send them over, one at a time. And until you get over this mountain, you’re going to live for those books, Grant Ward. Got it?”_

_He stared at her for a moment, searching for something, but not knowing what. Eventually, he nodded._

 

He doesn’t and can’t live for books anymore.

Raina stares at him, not a trace of fear on her face. He clicks the safety off. Trip stands behind him, back pressed slightly against his and in a defensive position. He realizes the other man has his back should this go south.

“I’d do as the man says” Trip says, voice hard with not a hint of humor. Ward knows the man’s heart is racing just as fast as his with almost just as much terror.

Raina blinks at him. “You may go.” Ward keeps his eyes trained on her and doesn’t click the safety back on as he and Trip slowly back up toward the door. He lowers his gun just before slipping out the door.

And then he and Trip are running and he can’t remember his legs ever carrying him so fast. They have to be alive. Skye _has_ to be alive. Her father wants her alive, he tells himself, but it does nothing to ease the panic clawing away at him. He doesn’t know what he’ll do if Skye, or hell, any member of the team is dead. Of course, he’d hunt down each and every person responsible and make sure they paid for it in gruesome ways, but after that he’d be nothing. He thinks he’d be more lost than he’d been after Garrett had died, and he hadn’t thought that was possible.

They push through a gathering crowd and reach the site. His eyes scan the rubble frantically, desperately. Breathing grows more difficult each second he goes without seeing anyone.

And then he sees Skye stumble from behind a piece of rubble. She falls to her knees, coughing. She’s bruised and cut, but she’s _alive_. Alive, alive, alive. Suddenly, everything except her ceases to exist and he’s running, skidding to his knees, and cupping her face in his hands. His eyes flicker over every inch of her body, looking for signs of serious injury, before looking into her deep, warm eyes.

“Are you alright?” he asks, breathless. She shakes her head and the panic starts to set in again, but then she swallows and is nodding and he can finally breathe again. _Thank God_.

She pushes his hands off her and reality smacks into him. He’s about to curse himself, knowing his touch does nothing but make her nauseous, but she grips his wrists and bores her eyes into his. There’s fear in her eyes, but it’s not for herself. “Coulson and May.”

He nods curtly and she releases his wrists. He stands just as he hears Trip’s voice call out. “Found May!” He looks across the street where he heard the call, but sees just a house with a completely shattered window. A moment later, though, the two come out through the front door of the house, May limping and leaning on Trip slightly, and Ward realizes that _May_ was what shattered the window. A lump forms in his throat and he realizes how concerned he is about May.

“Is she alright?” he asks, jogging up to them. Behind him, Skye stumbles to her feet, swaying slightly before regaining her balance, and begins to walk over to them, her steps groggy.

“I’m fine” May replies curtly, teeth slightly clenched. There’s a gash along her hairline oozing blood that says differently, but he knows better than to call her out on it. Her eyes search the scene. They land on Skye and relief flashes through them, before she’s searching again. “Where’s Phil?”

“Here” he hears a voice grunt, right before a piece of rubble is moved away to reveal Coulson, sitting down and leaning back against the wall, breathing heavily. “I didn’t see that coming.”

“Thank God” he hears May breathe as they make their way to the man and Ward finds himself agreeing with the sentiment. He helps Coulson up, the man giving a groan in the process.

“You alright, sir?”

Coulson nods. “Fine.” Ward imagines Simmons’ reaction to all of their answers and almost smiles. But he doesn’t, because there’s still a danger and three members of his team are injured.

His team.

“What happened with Raina?” Coulson asks, straightening his cuffs, despite the fact that his suit’s all torn up anyway.

“We were ambushed,” Trip supplies. “She had this whole thing planned from the moment we touched down, sir.” Coulson frowns, but doesn’t look surprised.

“What happened here?” Ward questions, glancing around the scene with an almost accusatory look to his eyes. “Raina said this was message number three. You weren’t in the house?” Of course they weren’t. If they had been, they’d be dead. He absently shifts slightly closer to Skye. He knows they’ll go back to avoiding each other like the plague soon, but he doesn’t want to leave her side until the panic’s left his system.

Coulson shakes his head. “No, we’d just exited and were making our way toward you. The woman and boy, though…” Sadness overcomes Coulson’s eyes and Ward swallows. He feels almost guilty for the relief he feels despite the loss. This could’ve been a lot worse. The three could’ve been killed, but they’re walking, and that’s all he can really ask for.

“Simmons is going to freak” he hears Skye mutter and glances at her to find her grimacing. He wants to kiss her. He really, really wants to kiss her. But he also doesn’t want to get punched or yelled at and there are still matters at hand to deal with, so he turns his attention back to Coulson.

“Did you manage to get any more information?”

Coulson nods, before glancing around. “We can discuss it in the car. We need to go.” They all nod and make their way to the car. When they’re almost there, Coulson tosses him the keys. “You’re not seeing double, you drive. Trip, see what you can do about May’s head.” May rolls her eyes and they all file into the car. Coulson sits in the passenger seat, while the other three sit in one row in the back, May in the middle. Ward puts the key into the ignition, shifts it into drive, and pulls out.

They’re about fifteen minutes into the drive when he finally speaks. “So? What else did you find out?” He glances toward Coulson, before returning his eyes to the road.

“They- whatever they are –seem to have connections with the _Sǐwáng_ gang, which started here in China but now has small pockets around the world. My guess is that’s who Raina and the men who attacked our plane are associated with” Coulson explains and Ward nods in acknowledgment to the information. “As soon as we reach the Bus and everyone’s patched up, we’re going to track down their base of operations.” Ward nods again, but this time it’s more absently. His eyes flicker from the rearview mirror to the side mirror and his lips thin out. He changes lanes and watches behind them, before breathing out a curse.

“We’re being followed” he announces and the air in the car instantly tenses.

“What?” Skye demands, turning to look out the back window and wincing as it no doubt aggravates one of her injuries. “Which one?”

“Black _Honda_.”

“Think you can lose them?” Coulson asks and Ward gives a short nod. He glances at the others to make sure they’re all buckled- Skye is clinging to her seatbelt, no doubt already knowing what’s coming –before quickly merging into another lane, barely fitting in-between two cars, one of which who expresses their indignation. The other car follows, of course, and he wishes this were a smaller car, or a motorcycle even, and he could simply weave in-between traffic. But no, he’s going to have to get creative here.

And he strikes inspiration when he sees a gap in the traffic behind him.

“Hold on” he grinds out a second before slamming his foot on the brake, shifting the car into reverse, turning the wheel all the way to the left, and then slamming his foot back down onto the gas. He doesn’t get out of the lane completely on time, the car following them clipping the front right corner. He doesn’t pause, though, shifting it back into drive and turning the wheel the completely other direction, before peeling out, now driving the opposite direction of traffic. He drives straight toward the freeway entrance they’d passed nearly a football field ago. There’s another cluster of traffic coming, though, and he presses the gas pedal as far down as it’ll go.

“He done lost his mind” he hears Trip mutter and he can’t help the smirk that flashes across his face. The approaching traffic is getting closer and he hears Skye beginning to make an increasing noise of apprehension.

And then, they’re on the entrance, narrowly, dodging the traffic. He turns sharply into the flow of traffic, wedging between two others cars. He looks around and lets out a breath, seeing they hadn’t been followed.

There’s a beat, before Coulson speaks. “Well, that was fun.”

“Are you trying to kill us?!” Skye demands, voice a higher pitch than usual. Ward makes eye contact with her through the rearview mirror, a smirk flashing across his face.

“Been there, done that.” It’s a stupid, stupid joke, but the adrenaline in his body combined with the relief is putting him on a sort of high. That, and he finds the look on her face oddly funny.

Skye’s face goes slack in complete shock and Coulson’s eyeing him as if Ward’s the one with the possible concussion. May’s face twitches and after a moment, Trip barks out a laugh. Skye blinks, before shaking her head as if to clear her surprise and rearranging her features into a glare. It doesn’t bother him like usual, though. Frankly, he’s still just glad she’s alive. 

* * *

 

“What the bloody hell?” Simmons demands, watching as they all climb out of the car and shut the doors behind them. “What happened?”

“Explosion” Coulson says simply as they make their way into the lab and Simmons begins instantly clearing clutter off the counters. Trip is quickly at her side assisting her.

“Explosion?” she says, voice pitched slightly. Coulson merely nods and crosses his arms over his chest as he leans against a counter, his exhaustion showing for a moment. Simmons puckers her lips, before apparently deciding she’ll get an explanation later, and looking between all of the team members. “Who needs attention first?”

“May” Coulson says, glancing to Skye for confirmation, who nods. May shoots him a slightly exasperated look, but sits herself on the counter as Simmons begins to examine her.

Skye slumps into a chair and winces, causing Ward to frown. “Ow.”

“Did you at least get any leads?” Simmons asks, brow furrowing. Coulson nods.

“Yes, and we’ll follow them right after we all get some much needed rest.”

“And what happened to the car?” she asks curiously, probably having noticed the crunch front right corner.

Trip points to Ward. “That man drives like a bat out of hell.” 

_“I've found a reason for me_

_To change who I used to be_

_A reason to start over new_

_and the reason is you”_


	5. Falling Slowly

_“I don’t know you but I want you all the more for that_

_Words fall through me and always fool me and I can’t react_

_And games that never amount to more than they’re meant_

_Will play themselves out”_

“Alright,” Coulson says as they all gather in the mission room. He brings up an image of blueprints onto the table. “This is the _Sǐwáng_ gang’s base of operation here in China. The plan is to infiltrate it with as little noise as possible. When we get in, plug one of these into the first computer you see.” He takes out four flash drives and sets them on the table.

“Their systems seem to be on standalones. Those flash drives will give me access to their systems, letting me wirelessly copy all of their data to our systems here” Skye explains and Coulson nods.

“Right, so Skye and Simmons will be in the van running communications. The four of us”- he glances between himself, Ward, May, and Trip –“will be going in, and we’ll each have our own flash drive just in case. Trip and I will take the south entrance. May will take out security along the perimeter, before going in through the garage. Ward, there’s a ventilation opening on the east side that you should fit through.” Coulson gives him a long look and he realizes this is a pivotal moment of sorts. He’s being sent in alone, with no supervision aside from the bracelet. He knows it’s not because Coulson really trusts him, though. It’s because of efficiency, and the need to have all sides covered. So, he nods and turns his eyes to the blueprints, memorizing them. “Whichever one of us finds a computer first plugs the flash drive in. We then evac as soon as Skye’s done downloading the data.” They all nod in understanding. “Get ready, then. We touch down in five.” As they all go off to do just that, Coulson glances at Ward, giving a small, apologetic smile. “Don’t tell your psychologist about this.”

A small smirk flashes across Ward’s face and he glances down before answering. “I won’t, sir.”

“Good. She already shared some surprisingly stern words with me when I told her about the other day.” 

* * *

 

“Everyone is position?” Coulson’s voice speaks through Ward’s earpiece.

“Affirmative.”

“Affirmative.”

There’s a brief pause after May and Ward speak, before Coulson speaks again. “Skye? Simmons?”

“Right, yeah” Skye’s voice says. “Affirmative.” Ward’s lips twitch, fighting a grin.

“Alright,” Coulson says. “Mission’s a go.”

Ward’s focus narrows in on the mission as he quickly works to unscrew the opening to the ventilation. It pops off cleanly and he slips the screwdriver back into a pocket on his vest. He lets out a small sigh as he eyes the opening for a brief second. Coulson had said he’d “fit,” but he can already tell that’s not exactly the word he’d use to describe it. Still, he crawls into the opening. It’s tight and stuffy and reminds him why he’s always hated going through the vents. Not like he’d forgotten in the first place, though.

He takes a right, running the blueprints through his head. There should be an opening- there it is. He reaches the opening and peers through. It’s a few inches above the ground, which he’s thankful for. He pauses, listening for sounds of someone nearby and hearing none, before slamming his hand against the opening. It budges and all he has to do is slam his hand against it once more before it falls forward. He crawls out, quickly shifting to his feet and putting the vent back on. His head jerks up as hears approaching voices from the intersecting hallway. He pulls his ICER out from its holster and presses his back against the wall, shimmying to his right until he’s barely hidden behind the corner. He listens to their voices and footsteps: two men, medium to heavy built, tone conversational, about five steps away. One, two, three, four-

He turns, revealing himself, just as the two men reach the corner. He doesn’t give them a chance to react, nailing one man in the forehead with his ICER, while elbowing the other one in the throat. The man clutches at his throat in surprise, stumbling back, and Ward shoots him in the forehead as well. He glances at the unconscious bodies, before stepping over them and making his way down the hallway. He knows that the longer this goes on, and the longer there are no doubt bodies being dropped by both him and his teammates, the sooner they need to get out.

He stops by a doorway, glancing in to make sure it’s empty. It is, and he feels a sense of satisfaction when his eyes land on a computer. He slips into the room, closing the door behind him, and takes the flash drive out of his pocket.

He presses on his communicator. “Found a computer. Prepare to upload.” 

* * *

 

“Copy that” Skye speaks into the communicator, typing the commands into her computer. Simmons shifts in her seat, before hesitantly speaking.

“It’s weird… having Ward working with us again” she says quietly. Skye bites her lip and simply nods, because it _is_ weird. And anyone watching from the outside probably couldn’t tell how tense it is; how on edge she is, waiting to see if he’ll pull through or just betray them all over again. She doesn’t trust him, not in the slightest. He’s only been back with them for a few days, but it for some reason it feels like much longer. If it wasn’t for the ache in her chest at the thought of him, she could probably close her eyes and pretend the last six months never happened and he had never betrayed them. She _does_ have that ache in her chest, though, and he _did_ betray them and it _is_ weird to be working together again. But if it’s so weird, why does it still feel so natural?

“Skye?” Simmons’ apprehensive voice brings her out of thoughts. She turns to the other girl.

“Hm?”

“Did you hear that?” She pauses instantly, brow furrowing as she listens for whatever Simmons is talking about. Then she hears it: the crunch of a footstep outside the van. _Crap_. The two exchange a glance, listening as the footsteps circle the van. _Go away, go away. Nothing but an empty van here_. The person reaches the back of the van and seems to pause. They jump as the handles get tugged on several times. A second passes and she hopes whoever it is is losing interest, but then they start pounding on the door, shouting something in Chinese. She can tell it’s a male and whatever he’s saying isn’t friendly. She swallows, standing up and taking out her ICER.

“Flash drive plugged in” Ward’s voice filters through. There’s a pause. “Skye?”

Simmons scrambles to the microphone. “Uh, just a moment.”

“What’s happening?” Ward demands, concern bringing his voice up a notch.

“You two alright?” Coulson’s voice, a second later, having heard the conversation in his communicator as well. Simmons opens her mouth to respond, but Skye talks.

“Unlock the door on the count of three, Simmons” she says steadily.

Simmons’ eyes widen. “Are you sure?”

“Yeah,” she replies, tone almost nonchalant, despite her intent focus on the doors. “I got this.”

“Alright…”

“One, two… three!” Simmons unlocks the door and Skye kicks them open, causing the man to let out a curse and stumble back. Not a second later, she shoots her ICER, hitting him square in the chest. The man slumps to the ground and she lets out a breath. For once, that had gone as well as she had hoped. She then pivoted back around, setting the ICER down and going to the microphone, Simmons stepping out of her way. “All’s good. Starting upload now.” 

* * *

 

Ward lets out a breath in relief. “Alright. How long is this going to take?”

He can practically feel Skye’s shrug. “Depends on how much data. Five minutes, tops.” He peers out the small window on the door, ducking just as some men go running by. At the same time, he hears Coulson’s voice.

“Try to make it faster.”

“Why? What happened?” May’s voice questions.

“We’ve been made.”

Ward cursed. “How?”

“Not sure.” He hears a grunt and assumes Coulson and Trip are currently in a fight. “Skye?”

“Almost there” Skye’s voice says and that’s just as the door to the room comes bursting open. _Damn_. Ward shoots the first man to enter with his ICER, but is tackled by another not a second later. Like a damn rookie, he loses his grip on his ICER. He grits his teeth as the man lands a punch on his jaw. He notices a third man going for the flash drive and curses. He knees the man on top of him in the gut, before slamming his fist against the side of the man’s face and effectively knocking him unconscious. He pushes the man off him and scrambles to his feet. His ICER was kicked all the way across the room, so there’s no time to grab it now. The other man grabs the flash drive and unplugs it.

“I lost the connection, what happened?” Skye’s voice demands in his ear. He doesn’t bother answering, lunging at the man. He grabs his wrist and slams it against the desk, while sending an uppercut into the man’s chin. The man is heavyset, so it doesn’t knock him out, but he does stumble back a few feet and the flash drive falls loose. Ward grabs it and quickly plugs it back in, hoping that Skye doesn’t have to start from scratch with the upload.

And then, the man’s grabbing the back of his vest and tossing him about three feet. He’s back on his feet immediately, jumping and slamming his feet against the man’s leg before he can reach the flash drive. The man lets out a scream as his leg collapses and Ward’s about to knock him out, but the man’s grabbing his gun and shooting at him now. He dodges, diving for his ICER just as he hears Skye’s voice in his ear.

“Got it. Evac now, guys.” _Thank God_. He grabs his ICER, ducks to avoid another bullet, and turns, firing his ICER and nailing the man in the forehead. He lets out one breath, before moving back to his feet and jogging across the room. He grabs the flash drive and slips it back into his pocket, before exiting the room.

He can’t seem to catch a break, because as soon as he’s out of the room, he’s under fire. He slips behind a corner for cover and returns fire. He takes out three men, but there are more than that and most likely more coming. He analyzes the variables. Running seems to be his best option. He hates it, but he’s not an idiot. He knows when not to push his luck. So, he continues down the hallway, feet carrying him quickly to put as much distance between him and the men before they realize he’s slipped away.

“Ward, status” Coulson’s voice says and he assumes everyone else must’ve reached the van if the man’s asking only for him.

“On my way” he says, but that’s just as a door in front of him swings open and several men pour out. _Dammit_. He nails one in the head with his ICER, but that’s just as another one is slamming him back against the wall and pressing the barrel of a gun against his head. His hand shoots up, grabbing the man’s wrist and twisting it until there’s a crack and the man hollers in pain. There are too many of them and he doesn’t have time to hold back, even if he wanted to at this point. He uses the wall as a platform, pushing himself back against it and bringing his knees up, before slamming his feet against the man’s chest and sending him sliding back across the hallway.

“Hurry up” Coulson orders and his heart leaps to his throat when he hears the sound of gunshots through the communication. He weighs the options and comes to a decision just as he dodges the fist of another man.

“Just go,” he grunts as he punches the man in the stomach, before rearing up to head-butt him. His vision swims for a moment, but he pushes through it, disarming the man.

“What?” Skye’s voice demands in the background at the same time Coulson speaks.

“No.”

“You’re under fire and I’m not gonna make it in time” Ward speaks through gritted teeth as he jabs one man in the neck while kicking another one in the gut. Someone fires their gun and he feels a pain spread through his chest as he stumbles back. He’s wearing his vest, though, so he does his best to ignore the pain and fires his ICER. He hits two men just as another, larger man, punches him in his ribs and he knows instantly that one of his ribs is fractured. He’s briefly surprised, yet exasperated when he hears Coulson’s voice again.

“Where are you?”

“East side, first floor” he responds dutifully, grabbing the large man’s head and slamming it against his knee.

“Is there a window?”

Dammit, why-? “Yes.” He grabs another man by his hair and slams his head against the wall.

“Go through it.” He doesn’t hesitate, slipping out from the fight and barely pausing as a bullet grazes his shoulder. He hurtles himself toward the window, some stray bullets from the men hitting the glass. He covers his head just as he throws himself through it. The window’s about three feet off the ground and he gives a large grunt as he slams into the hard ground. He looks up as he hears the screeching of tires and sees the van round the corner, Trip at the wheel. The van screeches to a halt in front of him at the same time a nearby door swings open and two men run out, instantly aiming their guns at Ward. The doors to the van swing open and May’s there, firing her ICER and hitting the two men in the blink of an eye. Ward stares for a moment where the two men had previously been standing, before stumbling to his feet and toward the van. Coulson grabs the back of his vest and helps pull him in just as May closes the van doors.

Then, the van’s pulling away, leaving the scene as fast as it can go. Ward lies on his back, catching his breath. The adrenaline slowly starts to drain from him, leaving an ache throughout his body. He wouldn’t be surprised if he wakes up the next day with a bruise on every inch of his body.

“We’re definitely not telling your psychologist about this” Coulson says after a moment of silence.

“You ok, man?” he hears Trip’s voice call from the driver’s seat. He nods, before realizing Trip probably can’t see him and clearing his throat.

“Yeah” he says, slightly breathless. His eyes go to Coulson, and the question must be clear in them, because Coulson gives him a long, undecipherable look before speaking.

“No man gets left behind, remember?” A lump forms in Ward’s throat and he quickly looks away. He finds his eyes landing on Skye, just to make sure she’s alright. She’s not looking at him, instead staring out the window. He can see anger brewing in her eyes, though, and he doesn’t know why.

He lays his head against the cold floor of the van, debating the pros and cons of taking a nap right then and there. 

* * *

 

_Thump, thump thump_. His fists repeatedly smack against the punching bag, against the protest of nearly his entire body. He ignores the pain, though, because thus far, this seems to be the only way to get the nausea crawling through him to subside. He pictures the faces of the gang members and punches a bit harder. He hears Raina’s threats against Skye and punches a bit faster. He flashes back to the last six months and has to grit his teeth.

“You shouldn’t be doing that with a fractured rib.” He pauses mid-punch when he hears Skye’s voice. Her words come out curt, almost bitter. He steadies the bag with his hands and turns to her. She’s at the base of the spiral staircase and he realizes he hadn’t even noticed her approach.

“Probably not” he says, panting slightly. He uses the back of his hand to wipe the sweat off his forehead and watches her. She’s staring at the punching bag and not at him. Her nostrils are slightly flared. She’s angry about something, he can tell. The silence stretches on as he waits for her to get impatient and just blurt it out.

She doesn’t disappoint. “What was that back there?” She turns her sharp gaze to him, pinning him to the spot. His brow furrows, confused.

“What was what?”

“You wanting us to just leave you there to die” she says, teeth clenched.

His confusion only increases. Had she been concerned? She shouldn’t have been. He doesn’t deserve her concern, never had. “You were under fire. You had to get out of there and it wasn’t worth-”

“Yeah,” she stalks up to him and it seems her fury is only increasing with his every word. “You don’t get to do that.”

He stares at her, hands out in a sign of confusion. “Do what?”

There’s a distance of about two feet between them. Her glare is piercing and his heart is racing. “Make the sacrificial play. You can’t do that.” He gapes slightly in surprise, before rearranging his features, deciding to focus on his growing frustration.

“Why?” he demands. She doesn’t and shouldn’t care anymore, and his life had ceased to be worth anything a long time ago. If they had captured him, he wouldn’t have talked. If they had killed him, it wouldn’t have been much of a waste.

“You don’t get it do you?” She’s almost yelling now. “You betrayed us! Tried to kill us! You don’t care about us! You can’t! So I can’t care about you!”

She had lessened the distance between them during her tirade. The distance between them was now a mere couple inches. They’re both breathing deeply and he finds his eyes flickering down to her lips. He swallows and forces his gaze to her fiery eyes. Her words slam into him, soaking into his skin, and he realizes the accidental meaning behind her words. The rush of his blood through his veins is now almost thunderous and the world is narrowing in around him, leaving only her. She seems to realize what she said at the same time, because her eyes widen ever-so-slightly. Her jaw clenches and she lets out a breath, her features becoming completely neutral.

“Besides,” she says eventually, voice low and tone hard. “I was stupid enough not to let Deathlok kill you. And I don’t like my stupidity to go to waste.” It’s such a Skye thing to say. It makes no sense, but is completely understandable.

She pivots on her heel then, some of her hair brushing against his arm, and he snaps out of it. He swallows down the emotions he’s feeling, many of which he isn’t sure what to think about, and watches as she stomps up the stairs, taking them two at a time, without a glance back.

He doesn’t know what just happened. 

_“Take this sinking boat and point it home_

_We've still got time_

_Raise your hopeful voice you have a choice_

_You've made it now”_


	6. Story of My Life

_“Written on these walls are the colors that I can't change_

_Leave my heart open but it stays right here in its cage_

_I know that in the morning now I see us in the light upon a hill_

_Although I am broken, my heart is untamed, still”_  

It’s one of those quiet moments in the bus. Skye’s in the mission room, going over the data. Coulson’s in his office doing paperwork, and he assumes May’s in the cockpit- she had slipped away shortly after doing her morning routine. Trip and Simmons are playing a card game in the med-pod, if the deck of cards Trip had taken with him is any indication. He sits on the couch, forcing himself not to glance back at Skye. He grabs the box of his belongings and slides it closer, before ruffling through it. It’s filled with mostly clothes, as he had never bothered with keeping many belongings, but he knows there should be a couple books in there. He needs something to take his mind off things for a little while. His body’s sorer than it had been the previous day, so he’s trying another option besides the punching bag.

He freezes, however, as his hand finds his copy of _Matterhorn_. He’s finding difficulty swallowing as he pulls the book out. His eyes flicker over the cover.

 

_“Let’s talk about John Garrett.” He stiffened immediately. This was the third week of his “therapy” and Gayle had been seeing him almost every day. A part of him was surprised she’d waited this long to bring up Garrett. Most of him, though, just wanted her to leave him alone. “Is that a bit of a sensitive subject for you?” She scribbled something down on her clipboard as she spoke, and he cursed himself for giving any sort of reaction. He ground his teeth and stared at the wall above her shoulder, choosing not to respond. She stared at him for a moment, tapping her pen against the clipboard. He had the urge to rip the damn thing right out of her hands, but let out a breath as he forced himself to remain calm. He needed to stop being so defensive. That’s what she wanted: to get under his skin. “Tell me about John.”_

_“He’s dead.” His words were blunt and harsh and_ dammit _he shouldn’t have said anything. Gayle just nodded, almost as if they were talking about the weather._

_"That he is. I meant more like what he was like when he was alive. How was he as a mentor? As a person?” she stared at him curiously for a moment, before giving a small shrug. “Honestly, you can talk about whatever you want about him.”_

_"There’s nothing to talk about.” He hadn’t been able to save the man who had saved him. That was the basic fact of the matter. He had failed at the single most important mission Garrett had ever given him._

_“Why’d you follow him?” she questioned almost as soon as he had finished his sentence. He bit his cheek until he tasted blood. “Did you feel like you owed him?” He wanted to shoot her. Or maybe himself. Yeah, himself would be best. “Because he saved you from the living hell that was your life, right? He galloped in during your darkest moment and whisked you away to a life of purpose and duty.” He wanted to scream at her that she didn’t understand. He wanted to punch the wall until his fists were bloody. He wanted to throw her damn clipboard across the room. She didn’t understand, never would. He highly doubted she’d ever been even remotely in his place. She didn’t know a thing about him or Garrett or what that man had done for him. “But in the end, you just traded in one abusive relationship for another.”_

_His gaze snapped to hers and his nostrils flared without his consent._ No _. She was wrong. His parents and brother were entirely different from Garrett._

_She set her clipboard down on her lap and leaned forward, threading her fingers together. She was sitting on the cot that would belong to his roommate, if he had one. “You never owed him anything.”_

_"You’re wrong” his voice was flat and he really needed to_ shut up _._

_She shook her head slightly, gaze intense. “He didn’t do it for you, Grant. You didn’t ask him to break you out of juvie. He did it for himself, for his own selfish reasons. If it had been a selfless act, then he wouldn’t have thrown it in your face as much as I’m sure he had.”_

_His face was completely emotionless, but on the inside, he was at war. Every instinct of his was telling him that she was wrong, that she didn’t know what she was talking about. But if that was the case, then why was an empty sort of nausea filling his stomach?_

_She broke eye contact after a moment of heavy silence, grabbing her clipboard and scribbling on it. “I want you to think about that. Digest it a little. And then be ready for when I bring the subject back up sometime, which I will do.” Her green eyes spoke business and his brown ones spoke chaos._

 

His grip on the book tightens until his knuckles are white and he has to force himself to relax. Gayle had certainly brought up the subject again, on multiple occasions, until he found himself doubting every little thing Garrett had done. Had giving him this book been a part of his manipulation? He’s fairly sure at this point that Garrett had, indeed, manipulated him- Garrett had manipulated everyone, however, so he’s not really that special of a case. Now, though, he’s battling with the clashing images of the man he had thought he had known and the man he had apparently been all along.

He suddenly has the urge to just burn the damn book, but knows that goes against about a thousand safety regulations on the plane. And the last thing he needs to do is give May more of an excuse to kick him off the plane and back to prison than she already has. Instead, he stands up, walks to a nearby trashcan, drops it in, and closes the lid before he has the urge to take it back out.

He looks up as Coulson enters the room and he finds himself wondering what would’ve happened if Coulson had been the one to find him. He lets the thought go quickly, though. He can’t dwell on _what ifs_. They don’t do him or anyone else any good. He has to accept his past, he knows deep down, if he is to eventually be worth anything to the team.

Coulson joins Skye in the mission room and he watches as the two converse for a moment, before diverting his attention to the window, watching as the clouds stretch out into the horizon. It’s easy, almost, to pretend for a moment that the world below doesn’t exist. He focuses back in on his surroundings and turns around when Coulson walks toward him and speaks.

“We’ve got a lead on Raina. Go get May.” He pauses. “On second thought, I’ll get May. You get Trip and Simmons.” Ward nods and makes his way to the med-pod. When he gets there, he sees the two sitting on the edge of Fitz’s bed, playing _Go Fish_.

“Do you have any twos?” he hears Simmons ask as he enters the room. Trip grins.

“Go fish” he replies teasingly and Simmons scowls. Ward taps his knuckles against the doorway to get their attention and the two instantly look up. Simmons tenses slightly and Trip looks curious. Ward looks anywhere but at Fitz.

“Coulson wants everyone in the mission room. We’ve got a lead on Raina” he says, shifting his stance slightly. Trip claps his hands together, before gathering up the cards.

“’Bout damn time” the other man says enthusiastically, before standing up and exiting the room. Simmons trails behind him, but Ward finds himself stopping her.

“Simmons” he blurts, lightly touching her arm as she passes him. She stops and flinches and he wants to punch himself. Instead, he swallows and looks into her eyes. “How is he really?” He jerks his head toward Fitz without looking toward the younger man. Simmons bites her lip, her gaze going to Fitz and automatically turning sad.

“He suffered a hypoxic-anoxic brain injury, due to the lack of oxygen. It’s concerning that he’s been in a coma for so long, but his brain activity has been on the rise, though it’s still rather low. I’m hopeful that in a few months he’ll enter a vegetative state and I’ll remove the breathing tube. His pupils also aren’t dilated and that is a good sign. We can’t know the full extent of the damage until he wakes up, unfortunately.” He nods in understanding, getting the basic gist: Fitz’s fate is completely unknown. He tries to swallow down the guilt, but it doesn’t work. He wonders what he’d do with himself if Fitz doesn’t make it. Nothing good, that’s for sure. Simmons turns her gaze back to him and he’s surprised by the fierceness of the glare she gives him. He shouldn’t be surprised, though, given he is the one responsible for her best friend being in a coma. “Is that all?”

He eyes her, before nodding. He doesn’t expect her forgiveness, doesn’t deserve it. She walks past him stiffly and, after a moment, he follows. The others are already gathered in the mission room when they arrive. Skye must notice how tense Simmons is, because she shoots Ward a glare and shifts closer to the other girl. He resists the urge to sigh and turns his attention to Coulson. The man gestures for Skye to speak.

“It looks like the _Sǐ_ -whatevers kept copies of emails on their computers.” Several documents pop up on the larger screen. “Most of it is just basic mumbo jumbo, checking in on the other pockets. But _this_ one-” a single document shows on the screen –“from a group in Montana of all places, mentions that the ‘girl in the flower dress’ should be arriving shortly. This email was received about a day ago.”

Coulson nods, before taking over. “The plan is to infiltrate the base and capture Raina.”

“’Cause that worked so well the last time” May comments, raising an eyebrow slightly and crossing her arms. Coulson grimaces.

“We need answers. We’ll take every necessary precaution this time.”

“What if it’s another trap?” Ward comments, brow furrowed. “She’s seemed to have this whole thing planned from the start, sir. She probably already knows about our attack on the Chinese base.”

Coulson nods. “I don’t doubt it. But I’m tired of being on the defense. Trap or not, we’re taking the fight to her.”

May’s eyebrow rises some more. “That’s reckless.”

“Precisely. Hopefully, Raina’s expecting us to make a move while she’s alone and vulnerable. She won’t be expecting us to go in while she’s surrounded by an entire gang.” Ward nods. It makes sense, in a roundabout way. Coulson gets back on track. “When we get there, Skye will hack into the security feeds and get us a location on Raina. Trip and I will then provide a distraction outside the base. Ward and May, you’ll go in and grab Raina.” Ward swallows and glances at May. Her expression is completely unreadable, but his must give something away, because Coulson apparently feels the need to explain. “You two are our most efficient.” He pauses and eyes them sternly. “Will this be a problem?”

“Of course not” May answers immediately, tone matter-of-fact. Ward clears his throat slightly before answering.

“No, sir.”

Coulson eyes them for a moment more, before nodding. “Alright.” 

* * *

 

“Skye, got a location on Raina yet?” Coulson’s voice asks in Ward’s ear as he and May crouch on the opposite side of the building where Trip and Coulson will soon be causing their distraction.

“Just a sec’.” He hears typing in the background. “Yep, got her. She’s on the first floor. You two take your first right, then your first left, and she should be behind the third door on your right. Hold on…” There’s a pause and Ward frowns. “It looks like their doors have electronic locks connected to the security system. I can lock her in the room if you guys want.”

There’s only a second of silence as Coulson probably thinks it over. “Do it.”

“Done.”

“Alright. Ward and May, wait for our signal.”

“Copy that” Ward responds. He glances at May, who’s completely expressionless and not looking at him. He knows he deserves every ounce of her fury and hatred. Honestly, when he thinks about what he did to her he feels sick. “May-”

“I’d rather not hear it” she cuts him off curtly. He swallows, before deciding to press on.

“Look, I’m not saying I deserve-”

“I don’t care about what you have to say,” May says, cutting him with a stern look that’s almost a glare. “I care about what you do.”

Ward’s brow furrows and he eyes May. He doesn’t have time to process the thought much, though, because suddenly there’s an explosion on the other side of the building and he knows that’s the signal. He and May are instantly moving, slipping in through a nearby door with ICERs ready. They creep silently down the hallway, pausing behind a corner as a group of men go running by, before taking their first right and then their first left.

That’s just as a door in front of them bursts open. Ward grabs the first man he can reach, grabbing the front of the man’s shirt and slamming him against the wall on the other side of the hallway, before shooting his ICER and hitting him square in the chest. He bends backwards just as a fist from another man comes flying at his face. He grabs the man’s fist and twists it, causing the man to holler, before kneeing him in the gut. He then slams his fist against the man’s face, knocking him out. He looks up then, to see five other bodies lying on the ground and May already making her way to the third door.

“You coming?” she calls behind her, tone dry. He blinks and glances at the bodies once more, before jogging up to her. They stop in front of the door and Ward taps his earpiece.

“Open the door, Skye.”

“Magic word?” He rolls his eyes and tries to ignore how the comment reminds him of old times.

“Please.” Before, he probably would’ve insisted that she just open the damn door, but if she wanted a _please_ , he’d readily give her one. He hears the door click a moment later as it’s unlocked. He and May glance at each other, giving brief nods, before he kicks the door open and points his ICER at the first person he sees.

It’s Raina, standing alone in the middle of the room with her hands up. Her expression is relaxed, almost expectant. She opens her mouth to say something, but he doesn’t give her a chance, firing his ICER and hitting her in the chest. May taps her earpiece.

“We’ve got Raina. Evac-ing now.” 

* * *

 

They watch as Raina jerks awake in the interrogation room. She blinks and looks around the room casually, before leaning back in her chair and threading her fingers together. Ward looks away from the screen as Coulson and May enter the mission room.

“We’re sure she’s not carrying anything?” he asks and Coulson nods.

“We scanned her from head to toe.” Ward nods and turns his attention back to the screen.           

“So what now?”

Coulson crosses his arms and looks toward the screen. “Now, we get our answers.” The man sighs and massages the bridge of his nose. “It looks like we’re going to have to try a physical route.”

“I can talk to her” Skye says suddenly, gaining everyone’s attention, and Ward finds himself speaking before he can stop himself.

“No.” He winces and the look Skye gives him brings to mind the phrase “if looks could kill.” Coulson shoots Ward a stern look, before turning to Skye with a questioning, interested expression.

“I’m the one they want. She’s probably more willing to talk to me than any of you,” Skye explains, giving a helpless shrug. “Besides, I don’t know how well torture would work considering she’s practically brainwashed.”

Everyone exchanges glances and Ward frowns. He doesn’t like it, not one bit. He can feel his teeth clench at the simple thought of Skye being in the same room as Raina. But, he knows his viewpoint is no longer valid. Besides, he hates to admit it, but it does make sense.

After a moment of thought, Coulson gives a brisk nod. “Fine.” He gives Skye a long look. “But I don’t like it.” She nods, completely serious, before turning and heading toward the interrogation room. A moment later, she appears on the screen as she enters the room. She gives Raina a light smirk.

“You just can’t seem to stay away” she says lightly, walking up and taking a seat across from Raina.

Raina gives a small smile. “Skye, what a pleasure. I was almost expecting Agent Ward or Agent May to come in and break my fingers.”

Skye gives a small chuckle, completely at ease, reminding Ward how good an actress she actually is, as he had found out personally. “Would that have done any good?”

Raina blinks, her lips twitching into a slightly larger smile. “No, but perhaps it would’ve given Agent Ward a chance to let out some of his frustration. Is he even still _Agent_ Ward?”

Skye raises an eyebrow slightly and leans back in her chair, crossing her arms. “Do you want to talk about Ward? Or do you want to tell me all the reasons I should go to the dark side?”

Raina’s smile dissolves into that almost worshipful expression. “The darkness is underrated, Skye. You all see it as a symbol of evil, but why is that? We’re all born from the darkness.”

Skye eyes Raina dubiously. “Right.”

“There’s nothing in the darkness. And wouldn’t that be nice, to not feel anything? To get rid of that constant ache in your chest?”

Skye’s eyebrow twitches, the only sign that she’s at all affected by what Raina said. “What’s your stake in this?”

Raina’s look is that of innocence and her tone suggests that this is all simple facts. “Your kind is the future. I simply want to be a part of the evolution.”

“And what is ‘my kind’ exactly? What can you tell me about them?” Skye’s face is completely business now, suggesting that any small talk or stalling would not be tolerated.

“I can tell you that he is getting impatient and soon, he’ll have to send another message.”

Skye raises an eyebrow. “Right, ‘cause so far your ‘messages’ have been so effective.”

Raina tilts her head to the side. “You think it’s been an accident that you’ve all walked away thus far?” She leans forward slightly. “If he had wanted any member of your team dead, they would be. Those were simply warnings. But if you don’t hand yourself over soon, he promises that won’t be the case for long.” Ward can see Skye swallow as Raina continues. “Who will be the one to die first? Maybe he’ll start small and go for Trip, or maybe go big and target Coulson. Or perhaps Fitz, since he’s almost there either way. It would be poetic, I think, to kill Ward. Have him die valiantly, trying to protect you and make up for his sins.”

Ward’s fists are clenched and anger is causing his vision to narrow. He wants to rip Raina away from Skye and throw her out the damn plane. He forces himself to relax slightly, when he sees Coulson on the screen throwing the door to the room open. He hadn’t even noticed the man leave.

“Enough” Coulson says sternly. There’s a pause as Skye glares at Raina, before she gets up and walks past Coulson and out of the room. Coulson gives Raina a glare of his own, before exiting the room and shutting the door behind him. Ward turns his eyes from the screen as the two approach.

“You can’t let her get to you” he hears Coulson say just as they reach the others.

“Her psychotic ramblings aren’t the problem” Skye says, her frustration evident. “The problem is that you guys shouldn’t be risking your life for me.”

Ward almost rolls his eyes. He couldn’t think of any better reason to risk his life.

“We protect our own, it’s simple as that” Coulson says sternly, yet his eyes are compassionate.

“But isn’t this bigger than that?” Skye argues, shrugging off the comforting hand May tries to place on her shoulder. “They’re not human! _I’m_ not human!” It’s barely there, brewing behind her eyes, but Ward can see it: everything she’s been holding back this entire time. It’s killing her, the fact that her parents who she had searched her whole life for are monsters, and her newfound family is in danger because of it. He knows that a part of her just wants to run away and hide, but she’s pushing through it, refusing to let fear for herself dictate her actions. No, it’s fear for the team that drives her.

“That doesn’t matter” Coulson says matter-of-factly, placing a comforting hand on Skye’s cheek, a gesture Ward himself wants desperately to make, but knows he can’t. He watches as Skye takes a deep breath, before letting it out, her body relaxing slightly. Eventually, she gives a small nod.

“So what now?” she asks, looking up at Coulson with large, almost vulnerable eyes and Ward feels a pang in his chest.

“Now,” Trip says, walking over and throwing an arm nonchalantly over Skye’s shoulders. “I think there’s never been a better time for some ice cream and an Angelina Jolie movie.”

Skye gives him a small smile and Ward’s never felt so appreciative of the team. He feels hopeful that, as long as they’re here, Skye will be alright. 

* * *

 

 

He’s standing in the mission room, leaning against the table and watching Raina on the screen. Most everyone’s already in bed, but he can’t sleep. He keeps thinking about the threats against Skye and imagining various scenarios where he manages to take her away from all this, to a place where she’d never be in danger again. They’re all unrealistic, though. He knows that short of kidnapping her, there’s no way he’d be able to convince her to go anywhere with him. He _has_ considered it, but instantly dismissed it because he doesn’t want to take her choice away like that. He’s a monster, he knows, but he’s not going to treat Skye like that.

“Has she done anything interesting yet?” He hears Coulson say and he glances at the man, before turning his eyes back to the screen and giving a small shake of his head.

“No, sir. She’s just been sitting there the whole time.”

Coulson nods and walks up, leaning against the table next to Ward and crossing his arms. Ward can feel the man’s eyes on him, so he’s not surprised when he speaks. He is surprised, however, by what he says. “Do you know why I let you come back?”

Ward freezes, before clearing his throat slightly and making sure his voice is even before he speaks. “I assumed it was because Gayle’s stubborn.”

Coulson chuckles slightly. “That she is. You should’ve seen her when she was lobbying against having you tortured. But no, that’s not why. Not the main reason, anyway.”

Ward turns his eyes to Coulson, brow furrowed. “Then why, sir?”

“I had six months to think it over, look over it objectively, and then I got a report from your psychologist recommending you spend time being supervised by an agent. I decided to look at your files then, the ones by your psychologist. Besides her, I’m the only one with direct access to them. And then I decided it was a bit hypocritical for me to give everyone else a second chance, but you.” Coulson gives a small, dry smile and there’s a lump forming in Ward’s throat. “I don’t trust you, not yet, but I believe you you’ll earn back that trust eventually.”

Ward swallows the lump in his throat, trying but failing to rearrange his expression into one of indifference. “Why are you telling me this, sir?”

“Because I have a question to ask you” Coulson says and suddenly the look in his eyes is severe, pinning Ward to the spot. Ward eyes the man in silent question. “Can I trust you to protect Skye, no matter what?”

There’s no hesitation. “Yes.” 

_“The story of my life_

_I take her home_

_I drive all night to keep her warm_

_And time... is frozen”_


	7. Beautiful Disaster

_“He drowns in his dreams_

_An exquisite extreme I know_

_He’s as damned as he seems_

_And more heaven than a heart could hold”_

“So you’re the new guys Donny said he was sending over?” the large man, Ted, asks, eyeing Ward and Trip questioningly. Ward nods and glances around the garage they’re in casually, counting the amount of men in the room and every object he could use as a weapon, seeming as how he and Trip hadn’t been able to take their ICERs with them. “I called him this morning, but he didn’t answer.”

“He left early for that trip to Hawaii he’s been talking about” Trip supplies casually, shrugging. Ward resists the urge to smirk, because the only trip Donny is taking is one to a local prison. After he gets out of the infirmary, that is.

Ted scoffs and rolls his eyes. “Maybe he’ll finally shut up about it then.” Ward raises an eyebrow slightly and exchanges a glance with Trip when there are murmurs of agreement from the men around them. Ted then turns his attention to the two agents. “So Donny tells me you two want to join the _Sǐwáng_ gang. Why’s that?”

Ward shrugs. “It’s good to have connections.”

 

_“Alright” Coulson said, he and May exiting the warehouse room where they’d been interrogating Donny. “Here’s the plan: Donny is supposed to send in two new recruits to the base. Ward and Trip, you’re going to go in in their place.” Ward’s eyebrows jerked up for the briefest second, before he managed to rearrange his expression to one of neutrality and give a curt nod. “The base here is rumored to be one of the only ones that’s mostly without whatever mental influence the others are under, and it seems so far the easiest way to get answers is to get them willingly.”_

_“One question,” Trip said, holding up a finger. “Do we have to know Chinese?”_

 

Ted spits and Ward notices Trip grimace. “Fair enough, but if you want to join my branch, you gotta start from the bottom up. Especially if you’re recommended by Donny; lazy piece of shit.”

“Yeah, he’s not that fond of you either” Trip comments and Ward smirks slightly. Ted grins.

“Bastard’s just jealous.”

Ward and Trip chuckle, before Ward clears his throat slightly and speaks. “So, who’s in charge of this whole operation?”

Ted scratches his beard. “You mean the tip-top?” They nod. “Don’t know. Everyone ranked above me are religious nuts.”

Ward furrows his brow in question and exchanges a look with Trip. “What do you mean? They’re like Catholic or something?”

“Nah, just say this guy ‘remade’ them. I told ‘em they’re nuts, but they say ‘my day will come.’” Trip and Ward raise their eyebrows.

“That’s pretty weird, man” Trip says and the man shrugs.

“Do you know where this guy is?” Ward questions, making his tone nothing but curious.

“He never stays in one place. You guys sure are curious.” Ward instantly notices the suspicion brewing in the man’s voice, so he gives a small, carefree laugh while Trip just chuckles.

“Donny didn’t tell you that about us, I guess” Trip says lightly. Ted opens his mouth to comment, but is distracted as another man enters the room.

“Hey, Johnny! These are the boys Donny was talking about” he called lightly, jerking his thumb toward Trip and Ward. The new man, Johnny, eyes the two and Ward resists the urge to stiffen when he sees blatant suspicion.

“Donny said the two guys were brothers” Johnny says and suddenly every gaze is pinned to them. Ward’s hand twitches, as if searching for a weapon, as the atmosphere tenses.

“Foster brothers” he supplies immediately, going so far as to playfully nudge Trip with his elbow. The other man plays along easily, chuckling and lightly bumping his fist against Ward’s arm. Ted’s suspicion fades, but Johnny’s remains.

“Donny always leaves out important crap” Ted grumbles. Johnny shoots him an irritated look.

“Two of our bases were attacked in a couple days. We’re the next closest one to Montana. We can’t be too careful” he argues. Ward and Trip exchange a worried, confused glance.

“Attacked? By who?” Ward questions. Ted and Johnny exchange a glance.

“Don’t know. Some say it was the government” Ted replies and Ward wants to smirk, because he’s not quite right.

“So where was this head honcho last seen?” Trip asks, cutting to the chase, because it’s doubtful there’s any more useful information and they’re about to give the signal to the others.

“Don’t know” Ted replies automatically and Johnny shoots him another look.

“Why?” Johnny demands and Ward sighs. Here it comes.

“Banana” he says, straight-faced.

 

_“What’s the code word going to be, sir?”_

_“Banana” Skye supplied immediately, nodding matter-of-factly. Everyone turns to give her a questioning look. “What? How likely are you to say that in regular conversation?”_

_There was a pause, before Coulson turned to him and merely gave a helpless shrug._

The lights in the garage went out for five seconds, just long enough to disorient those who hadn’t been expecting it and to allow May to lunge out of her hiding spot. Trip goes for Johnny and Ward immediately lunges at Ted, his fist connecting with the large man’s jaw. The other man stumbles back a couple feet and Ward doesn’t give him time to react, grabbing his shoulders and kneeing him in the gut. He then ducks to avoid the fist of another man, turning his attention to his new assailant for a moment. He slams his elbow into the man’s face, ignoring the crack from the man’s nose, before grabbing a fistful of the man’s hair and hitting his head against the wall, knocking him unconscious.

“Hey!” He turns when he hears Trip call, just in time to catch the crowbar being tossed to him. He gives a brief nod of thanks, before turning back around and hitting Ted, who’s lunging at him, across the face with the crowbar. The man slumps to the ground limply and Ward lets out a breath, before looking for his next opponent. His eyes immediately land on Trip, fighting two men with another approaching. He runs up, jumping onto the hood of the car between them. He jumps off the car toward the third man, sending his fist straight into his face. The man falls backwards, clutching his face, just as Trip finishes his two fights. They both look up when they hear a sharp whistle. May stands by an open door, a trail of unconscious bodies in front of her. She jerks her head to the exit. Ward and Trip exchange a look, before going to follow her. 

* * *

 

“So where to next, sir?” Ward questions casually, following Coulson out of the mission room as everyone disperses from debriefing. Coulson glances at him.

“D.C.” Ward stops, swallowing, before shoving all emotion off his face. He can’t jump to conclusions. He’s probably being paranoid. And he can’t do that unless he wants to look like a fool in front of Coulson, who has also stopped and is giving him a questioning look.

“What for?” he questions, trying his best to sound merely curious. Understanding flashes through Coulson’s gaze as the man no doubt remembers that the prison is located in D.C.

“Refueling and dropping off Raina. She’s going to undergo interrogation and psychological analysis to see if there are cracks in whatever influence there is over her. Besides, I think we could all use a breather.” Ward nods, hiding his relief. Coulson eyes him for a moment, before speaking. “You should probably make an appointment with your psychologist, talk to her about some things.”

Ward nods, before clearing his throat slightly. “Yeah.” He’s not sure if he’ll do that. While he wouldn’t mind seeing Gayle again, and he knows it would be for the best to get some things off his chest, there’s a part of him that’s afraid she’ll tell him that everything he’s doing and thinking is wrong and he’ll have to start all over again.

Coulson looks at him for a moment longer, expression nonchalant, but eyes observant, before giving a nod along with a small, casual smile, and turning around and walking away. 

* * *

 

_Ugh_ , Skye thinks, glancing at the clock by her bed and seeing that it’s three in the morning and she’s barely gotten a wink of sleep. It’s not a new occurrence, however. She hadn’t been able to sleep a full night since Raina came with a message from her father that seemed to send her world crashing around her. Ward presence on the bus only added to her troubles, as well. Really, she’s amazed she manages to get any sleep at all these days.

She lets out a huff and sits up, throwing the covers off and running a hand through her hair, before slipping out of her bed. She slides the bunk door open just enough to slip out quietly. She keeps her eyes on anything but the couch, where Ward’s currently sleeping, and goes straight to the kitchen. She grabs a water bottle from the fridge and takes a swig, before recapping it and heading back toward her room.

Completely involuntarily, she glances at Ward this time as she passes him and there’s suddenly a thickness in her throat. He’s sleeping, but his face is twisted into a grimace and there’s a small amount of sweat collecting at his hairline. His hands are twitching the slightest bit and his breathing is quicker than normal. He’s having a nightmare, she realizes. She forces herself to keep walking, though, but stops just outside her bunk door. She closes her eyes and lets out a frustrated breath. _Damn him._

She clicks on a nearby lamp and sets her water bottle down on the coffee table. She then kneels next to the couch and hesitantly places a hand on his shoulder. “Ward.” She frowns after a moment of nothing. “Ward.” She lightly shakes his shoulder. “Grant.” She shakes him a little harder and suddenly he’s bolting up and she’s wrenching her hand back. His wide eyes meet her and for a moment, neither of them speak. His breathing slows and she sees him swallow.

“What is it? What’s happening?” His eyes glance around then, as if looking for an imminent threat. His body is still tense, fists clenched.

Skye swallows and blinks once, twice, expression neutral. “Um, no, you were just having a nightmare.”

He frowns and clears his throat slightly. “Oh.” His confusion is clear and expression almost vulnerable as he looks at her. She knows he must be wondering why she bothered to wake him. She’s wondering the same thing, honestly.

He’s staring at her, probably waiting for her to say something. She doesn’t know what to say, though. A part of her wants to yell at him, which is nothing new. Another part of her wants to just walk away and forget this happened. A small, selfish part of her wants to just curl up in his embrace and forget everything that ever went wrong. But she’s neither naïve nor stupid. Those things did happen and she can’t and shouldn’t just forget them.

_Get it together_. She glances away, stands up, and grabs her water bottle. “Must’ve been a pretty bad one.” She keeps her tone casual with a hard edge to it. She glances at him to find him looking away, all previous openness gone.

“Don’t remember” he says and she knows he’s lying. She watches him for a moment more, silence growing heavy, before sighing.

“Well, see you tomorrow I guess.” She’s walking away and into her bunk, closing the door behind her, before he can respond. She leans back against the door for a moment. She needs a drink or something.

Something like answers.        

She tosses her water bottle onto her bed and grabs her laptop before sitting on her bed. The device boots up quickly and soon she’s connected to the SHIELD servers. What she’s looking for is above her clearance, but it’s not like that’s ever stopped her before. She finds the documents quickly and skims through them, entirely focused. Her body grows cold and she finds it more difficult to swallow with each word she catches. She quickly scrolls back up the beginning, seeing the emergency contacts. There are three slots, and the third one is blank. The second one, she’s only slightly surprised to see is Coulson. She then looks at the first number. She takes a breath, deciding to focus on her determination, before grabbing her phone and dialing the number. It rings twice, before it’s answered.

“Hello?”

She swallows. “Hi, I’d like to make an appointment with Dr. Gayle.” 

_“Oh and I don't know_

_I don't know what he's after_

_But he's so beautiful_

_Such a beautiful disaster”_


	8. In My Veins

_“Everything will change_

_Nothing stays the same_

_Nobody here's perfect_

_Oh, but everyone's to blame”_  

Three months pass with almost nothing. And no one likes it.

 

_“It doesn’t make sense,” Coulson said one day. “Our plane is attacked, a building exploded, all in a matter of a few days because ‘he’s getting impatient,’ and now nothing?”_

_“Maybe it’s because Raina is out of the picture?” Trip suggested, though he didn’t sound confident in the idea. May shook her head._

_“Raina was a puppet.”_

_“Maybe this is just one of their psycho plans” Skye suggested, running a hand through her hair in frustration. “I mean, think about it. They probably want us to either relax too much or get so ramped up that we make a mistake.”_

Ward sighs at the thought, cutting into the sandwich in front of him with a little more force than necessary. Coulson had told them not to be on edge, that they’d just continue infiltrating _Sǐwáng_ bases until they got a lead. Ward finds it’s something easier said than done, though.

“What’d that sandwich ever do to you?” Skye questions and Ward looks up to see her and Simmons enter the kitchen. He smirks slightly as they start grabbing the sandwich supplies he already has out.

“Knife is dull” he says lamely, not bothering to make it sound convincing, and Skye rolls her eyes. He watches her for a moment. There’s been a slight shift between them over the past three months. He doesn’t know what exactly brought it on, but he decided early on not to question it and to simply be grateful. It’s not like it used to be, of course. She’s still on guard and closed off around him, and there’s still sometimes an edge to her voice when she speaks to him, but he’ll gladly take whatever he can get. 

* * *

 

_Skye eyed the various degrees on the wall as she sat in a plush chair facing a desk, before her attention was caught by the woman on the other side of the desk._

_“So, Skye,” Gayle said, offering a friendly smile. “It’s nice to finally put a face to the name.”_

_Skye smiled, giving a small, slightly tight smile. “Same.” There’s a beat. “Should I lie down on the couch?” Her tone was joking as she jerked her thumb toward the couch against the wall behind her._

_Gayle’s grin stretched slightly. “You can if you want.” She leaned back in her chair and tapped her pen against her desk. “So, what would you like to talk about first? Grant, or yourself?”_

_Skye’s brow furrowed. “What do you know about me?”_

_“You mean the current situation?” She nodded. “Not much, but I’m being put in charge of interrogating the woman, Raina, so I figure I’ll be getting full disclosure on the situation.”_

_“Oh.” She bit her lip. “I came here to talk about Ward.”_

_Gayle looked at her for a moment, before nodding. “Alright. Fire away.”_

_“Is he insane?” she blurted. Gayle glanced down, smiling slightly._

_“Insanity’s a legal term, but no, he’s not. There are conditions I have diagnosed him with, but I can’t talk about that due to doctor-patient confidentiality.”_

_Skye nodded. “So what can you talk about?”_

_“The basics, I suppose.” Gayle gave her a look that was a mixture of questioning and amused. “But you’ve already read all the files, I bet, so why exactly are you here?”_

_She shrugged, glancing away. “I don’t know…”_

_Gayle’s gaze turned understanding. “Because you need someone to say it to your face, to hear it with your own ears.” Skye merely shrugged again and Gayle leaned forward, resting her arms on her desk. “Grant has had an extremely abusive past. He didn’t lie to you about his family.” Skye took a deep breath. “And Garrett only continued the cycle of manipulation and abuse.” Skye opened her mouth slightly to comment, but Gayle continued. “I’m not excusing what he did, not at all. He’s going to have to face that when he reaches that step, and I’ve told him so. What I’m saying is that there is an explanation, and this is a very grey area.”_

_Skye nodded slowly, swallowing as she processed the information. She bit her cheek, before speaking. “So, what, I should just forgive him? Jump back into a relationship?” She let frustration slip into her tone. Did whatever-the-hell-they-had-before even count as a relationship?_

_"I think you should consider all the variables,” Gayle said evenly, before chuckling slightly and giving a slight shake of her head. “As for a relationship, no, I can’t professionally recommend that at this time.”_

_Skye raised an eyebrow slightly and shifted in her seat. “And personally?”_

_“My personal and professional opinions are one in the same.” Gayle paused, fiddling with her pen. “Look, Grant cares about you a lot, and you’re in no way obligated to return the sentiment, but you should know that this a genuine attempt of his.” Her gaze softened. “The whole team means a lot to him, really.”_

_Skye averted her eyes, swallowing the thick lump in her throat. “I can try.” Her voice was quiet, unsure. Gayle nodded._

_“And that’s fine. You’ve got a lot of crap going on in your life right now, from what I gather.”_

_She scoffed, before fiddling with her sleeves. “Something like that.”_

_“If you want to talk about it, feel free to give me a call,” Gayle said, giving a kind smile. “Just know, as cheesy as it sounds, the only one who can define you is_ you _.” She glanced at her computer screen. “I have an appointment with the subject of conversation in about half an hour.”_

_Skye blinked. “Oh.” She went to stand, but Gayle spoke, curious._

_“If I may ask, what brought this on?”_

_She frowned and shrugged. “I don’t know. He had a nightmare the other night after going undercover and-”_

_“What? He was sent undercover?”_

Oops. _“Uh, it was just a small thing. No biggie.” Gayle frowned doubtfully and Skye guessed Coulson would be getting a call._

* * *

 

“Where’s the mayonnaise?” Simmons’ question catches Ward’s attention and he turns his eyes from Skye to grab the jar and hand it to Simmons.

“How’s Fitz?” he questions carefully and Skye glances at him with an indiscernible look. He never knows whether his mentioning Fitz will be met with accusing glares or a lack of eye contact. It seems to be the latter, this time.

“He’s been progressing quite well since I took the tube out last week” Simmons says and he can hear the hope and relief filtering in through her voice. He lets out a breath, unable to fight his own hope filling his chest, and nods.

“That’s good” he says simply, voice slightly thicker than he’d like, causing him to clear his throat. The two girls nod and silence engulfs them then. It’s not as tense as when he had first arrived back, but it’s certainly not comfortable either. As he takes a bite of his sandwich, he wouldn’t be surprised if the whole plane could hear him chewing. Simmons finishes her sandwich quickly and leaves to the med-pod, leaving just him and Skye in the kitchen. It’s not long before he can feel Skye’s eyes on him.

He swallows his bite and glances at her, raising an eyebrow. “What?”

She raises an eyebrow in return, before turning her attention back to preparing her sandwich. “You have a big glob of mustard on your cheek.”

He blinks and tries to hide his embarrassment. “Oh.” He grabs a napkin and quickly wipes off his cheek. Skye’s lips twitch and he swears she’s about to smile, but she doesn’t.

“Hey man,” they both turn to see Trip approach. He walks up, grinning friendly, and lightly hits Ward’s arm with a rolled up magazine. “Wanna spar later?”

Ward shrugs. “Sure.”

Trip’s grin stretches. “Good, ‘cause May kicked my ass earlier and I need to get my mojo back.”

Ward glances away to hide his amusement, before raising an eyebrow and giving a look of fake skepticism. “You’re confident.”

Trip smirks and shoots a wink to Skye, who’s watching the exchange. “Always.” Skye grins widely to herself and Ward chuckles, shaking his head slightly. Trip eyes him, still amused. “I’ll be damned; he laughs. Sort of.” Ward forces the small smile off his face and rolls his eyes, grabbing his sandwich to take another bite.

He pauses, however, when May’s voice comes over the plane’s coms. “Everyone report to the med-pod immediately.”

All amusement instantly dries up and Ward feels a stone drop into his stomach as he swallows. He doesn’t look as Trip and Skye glance at him then glance at each other, before they make their way quickly to the med-pod. He follows a few steps behind them. It has to be good news, because surely, there would be more panic if it’s bad? Still, his mind can’t help flashing to the worst possible scenario.

He sees Coulson, May, and Simmons gathered around the bed. He swallows. They’re not running around, they’re not visibly distressed. He enters the room and follows Skye and Trip up to the bed.

Fitz looks at them.

Skye lets out a strangled sound of relief and covers her mouth, eyes tearing up. “Oh my God, Fitz!” She squeezes herself between May and Simmons, putting an arm around the other girl, who has tears streaming down her face and the most relieved smile Ward’s ever seen. Trip grins widely and lets out a relieved laugh. There’s a small, genuine smile on May’s face and affection in her usually guarded eyes. Coulson just looks like someone took the weight of the world off his shoulders.

Ward wants to collapse and cry and throw himself out of the plane. Fitz is alive, Fitz is awake, and there is no way for him to make up to Fitz what he did. He could beg for forgiveness, but he doesn’t deserve it. He could try to explain his actions, but that wouldn’t change a thing.

“That’s what I’m talking about!” Trip says joyously, offering his fist to Fitz, who grins and grabs Trip’s fist with the hand that isn’t being clutched by Simmons. Skye leans forward and ruffles Fitz’s hair, before leaning in and placing a kiss on his cheek, causing the young man to blush slightly.

“I’m fine” Fitz says, smiling, as Skye opens her mouth, no doubt to ask him if he’s alright. His voice is scratchy, but clear. His eyes land on Ward and Ward holds his breath.

“Hey, Ward” he says simply, grinning, before eyeing the others smugly. “I told you guys.”

The others seem amused, but Ward’s having trouble speaking. There’s a lump in his throat and he has to swallow thickly to clear it. When he speaks, he goes to say _I’m sorry_ , but his words come out different and choked. “It was supposed to float.”

Fitz’s smile softens and he nods. “I know.”

Ward’s knees feel weak with relief, but he remains standing. He nods back, because that’s all he feels he can do.

“How are you feeling, Fitz? Really?” Coulson asks, brow furrowed slightly in concern.

Fitz glances down and scratches the back of his neck, shrugging. “Good, hungry as hell, but I…” He blinks, expression blanking for a moment, before landing on Simmons. “Jemma?” Everyone tenses and Ward feels dread seep into him. “We’re ok?” Fitz’s voice is slightly breathless and a grin is stretching onto his face, clearly relieved. “We’re ok!” He looks around at the others. “We’re all ok! And Ward, you’re…” He trails off, frowning suddenly. “Why’s everyone looking at me like that?” 

* * *

 

“Fitz is already wanting to get out of bed and walk around.” Ward looks up from where he’s sitting on the bottom step of the spiral staircase to see Skye descending toward him. “I knowing the feeling, but Simmons isn’t going to let him go anywhere for at least another week.” She reaches him and hesitates slightly, before sitting down next to him. There’s about three inches of space between them and he can feel the warmth of her body. “Apparently, short term memory loss is common for the type of brain injury he has. Something about the brain cells and lack of oxygen, I’m not sure.”

Ward nods, but keeps his eyes on the floor. He wishes she would punch him, yell at him, or at the very least, glare and be hostile. He certainly deserves it. “It’s my fault.” His voice is quiet, strained. He’s not even sure if he had spoken out loud, until Skye responds.

“Yeah, it is” she says thoughtfully and just as quietly, nodding slowly. Ward swallows and Skye sighs. “But Fitz seems to forgive you- every time, even –so I think you should do him a favor and do the same sometime.” Ward looks to her, surprised, and Skye wrings her hands together. “Here’s what’s going to happen…” She looks to him finally, making eye contact. Her gaze seems to rip through the very fiber of his being and go straight to his center. He can feel the world slowing and the air growing thick. “I’m going to forgive you. Not now, but some day.” He catches his breath and there’s so little space between them, that it would be easy to lean in and close the distance, but he doesn’t dare move. He doesn’t want to break this fragile moment.

He doesn’t want the hope to stop beating through his veins. 

_“Everything is dark_

_It's more than you can take_

_But you catch a glimpse of sun light_

_Shining, shining down on your face”_


	9. The Last Time

_“And right before your eyes,_

_I'm breaking, no past_

_No reasons why,_

_Just you and me.”_  

“Simmons, would you quit hovering? I’m fine for goodness’ sake.” Ward looks up from where he’s putting together some ICERs- boredom is a master at productivity –as Fitz enters the lab, Simmons trailing behind him. He raises his eyebrow slightly in surprise. He can’t remember the last time they fought.

“You woke up two weeks ago, Fitz, so excuse me for having concern!” Ward shifts as he watches the exchange. Should he leave the room?

“I know, but I could just use some room to breathe. I’m not a child!” They’re standing right in front of the table where he’s sitting now, and he’s about to leave, but Simmons huffs and stalks out of the room before he’s even stood up. He watches her go, before looking to Fitz, who already has a hint of regret in his eyes. It’s being overshadowed by frustration, however. There’s a moment of silence, before Fitz suddenly turns to Ward, putting his palms on the table and leaning forward. Ward blinks. “That woman is driving me crazy.”

“She’s just concerned, you know.”

Fitz sighs. “I know, but sometimes I need some space to _breathe_. I’m not an invalid.”

Ward turns his eyes to the ICERs. The thought of _space_ between Fitz and Simmons is foreign. He voices as much: “There was never much _space_ between you two to begin with.”

“Yes, but now she’s got this anxious vibe, as if she’s waiting for me to drop dead or start drooling or something.” Fitz waves his hands in the air helplessly.

“And if it was the other way around? Wouldn’t be the same way?” He glances up at Fitz while loading some ammo into an ICER. He briefly wonders when he became Fitz’s relationship councilor. Gayle would certainly get a kick out of it.

Fitz frowns. “Well, yes, but…” Ward holds in a smirk as Fitz obviously runs out of an argument. The young man lets out a sigh. “I suppose I should go talk to her.” Ward nods and flinches only slightly as Fitz claps him on the shoulder. “Thanks, man.”

“Don’t mention it” he says blandly, not looking up from the ICERs, because he’s really the last person Fitz should be getting relationship advice from. He also has a feeling that if the others found out, Trip would start coming to him with the most ridiculous questions.

He looks up, however, when he notices that Fitz has stopped a few steps away. He raises an eyebrow as Fitz turns to him, face confused and embarrassed. “What was I just doing?”

Ward keeps his face completely casual, despite the pang in his chest and the rush of guilt flowing through him. “You were going to apologize to Simmons. You got mad at her for hovering.”

Fitz nods and scratches the back of his neck. “Oh. Right.” Ward opens his mouth to say something comforting, perhaps, but nothing comes out. How can he comfort Fitz when he can’t even do so for himself? Fitz gives him a sheepish look. “Thanks.” Ward just nods and watches the young man walk away.

Just as Fitz exits the lab, Skye enters, and Ward ignores the extra _thump_ his heart gives. “Hey, Coulson wants you ready to go on a supply run with him and May in about ten minutes.”

He nods and stands up. “Alright.”

“Oh, and here’s this-” she fishes out a piece of paper from her jean pocket –“the grocery list.” She holds it out to him and he grabs it. Their fingers brush, but he pretends not to notice. He nods and glances over the list, raising an eyebrow at some of the selections. He’s almost completely certain that they were Skye’s choices.

“ _Fruity Pebbles_?”

“I have a need.” The look on her face is almost completely serious, and he can’t help but let out a short laugh. For a brief moment, there’s a familiar twinkle in her eyes and a small grin on her face, before she glances away and twirls a lock of hair around her finger, biting her lip. “So, yeah, Coulson wants you ready in ten.” She hesitates for a moment, before walking away. He watches her go. 

* * *

 

Skye watches as the car drives away, carrying Coulson, May, and Ward, before turning to the lab, where everyone else is gathered. She pats Trip, who’s sitting on a chair nonchalantly watching Fitzsimmons, on the head as she passes him and walks up to Fitzsimmons. She rests her elbows on the table they’re at and leans forward casually.

“What’chu guys doin’?” she questions curiously, threading her fingers together and resting her chin on top of them.

“Just going over some specs” Simmons replies casually and Skye nods, catching on to what they’re doing. They’d been doing it sometimes since Fitz woke up: going over specs to test his memory and knowledge. So far, it seems like Fitz’s only issue is the occasional short term memory loss.

She watches them for a little while, wondering how long it’ll take the other three to get back, before letting out a breath and standing up. “Well, I’m bored, so I’m gonna play with my laptop.” They all look toward the ramp, though, when they hear the sound of an approaching car. She raises an eyebrow. “That was fast.”

Trip stands up and shrugs, giving a small grin. “Maybe they forgot something.”

Their smiles instantly fade, though, as the car screeches into view- it’s a black _Honda_ and not one of theirs –and pulls up the ramp, about five more behind it. She notices the machine guns just as Trip yells out.

“Get down!” He doesn’t have to tell anyone twice, all of them diving for cover just as the gunfire begins. 

* * *

 

“Is that it?” Coulson asks as Ward sets the box of _Fruity Pebbles_ in the basket. Ward crosses it off the list and nods.

“Yeah, except for the water, which May’s grabbing.” Coulson nods in return and that’s just as May appears, carrying a case of water bottles. She slides it into the bottom of the basket and Ward crosses that off the list.

“Alright, let’s go” Coulson says, but that’s just as the man’s phone starts to ring. He frowns, grabbing it out of his pocket. His brow furrows as he looks at the screen. “It’s Trip. You two get in line and I’ll see what he wants.” They nod and leave Coulson in the aisle.

“He and Skye probably want us to bring back some magazines” Ward says casually as they get in line and May gives a small smirk in response. He isn’t sure when the last time he went grocery shopping was. He thinks it had been with Skye and Fitzsimmons, before everything had gone to hell. It’s such a domestic act, that he can’t help but be relaxed.

That is until Coulson is suddenly standing next to them, face grim, and Ward’s instantly on alert. “We need to go.” Coulson’s moving almost as soon as he’s finished his sentence. Ward and May don’t hesitate in abandoning the basket and following him out of the store. Ward has to jog to catch up with the man.

“Sir, what’s happening?”

“The plane’s under attack” Coulson says just as they reach the car. Ward and May exchange a glance before climbing into the car quickly, and he can see his own panic being reflected in her eyes underneath a layer of invulnerability.

“By who? How many?” May questions as Coulson starts the car.

“ _Sǐwáng_. Cut off before he could give me more information.”

He’s fairly sure he’s never seen Coulson drive so fast, nor so recklessly. Ward can feel his own fear growing with each second. He knows Trip can handle himself- but how many of them are there? What weapons do they have? Fitzsimmons are also there and he _can’t_ let them get hurt. They’ve been through enough. Then there’s Skye, and while he knows she’s not helpless, she’s no specialist. He can’t even process the thought of her getting hurt.

And there’s a part of him that knows this time isn’t going to be a “warning,” as Raina had put it. This time, they’re here for Skye and they won’t be showing any mercy.

His fists are clenched painfully by the time they reach the plane. He instantly notices the cars surrounding it and the gunfire. The car screeches to a halt and it’s barely stopped moving before Ward jumps out, followed closely by May and then Coulson. He only hesitates slightly as he enters the plane. The first thing his eyes land on are three unconscious bodies, none of which are a member of the team, thank God. He then scans the room; the door to the lab has been blown off and there are bullet holes everywhere. He doesn’t dwell on it, though, because he can still hear gunshots. Instead, he kneels by one of the bodies and grabs the man’s handgun, Coulson and May doing the same. He checks it to see if it’s fully loaded- it is. They’d probably been relying on the machine guns he sees lying on the ground.

Coulson gives silent orders, telling Ward to go up the spiral staircase while he and May go another way. Ward nods and doesn’t hesitate in bounding up the stairs. He stops at the doorway, peering in. It’s just in time to see a man pointing a handgun at Skye. His heart leaps to his throat and he’s about to fire, but she’s suddenly moving, getting into his line of fire. She grabbing the man’s gun and he instantly recognizes it as the first move he taught her. She disarms the man quickly and then she slams her foot against the man’s kneecap, dislocating the man’s leg. Ward finishes the man off, shooting him in the shoulder as he reminds himself it’s not an ICER he’s holding. Skye looks up, surprised, and for the first time in a while, he sees relief in her gaze as she looks at him.

“Did you get the _Fruity Pebbles_?” Her voice is slightly breathless and as he enters the room, he sees two other unconscious bodies. His eyes then scan over her. There’s a bad cut along her hairline, but other than that she seems fine. Relief courses through him, but he still has to ask.

“Are you hurt?” She shakes her head and he lets out a relieved breath, before refocusing. Skye is alright, but that doesn’t mean the others are. “Where are the others?”

“Trip got separated from us and I told Fitzsimmons to run.” He nods and slips past her, taking the lead. They make it to the living room, before they hear approaching gunfire. Fitzsimmons come barreling into the room, followed by several men shooting at them. Ward’s instantly in action, pushing the two behind the bar while returning fire. He doesn’t make the effort to aim for nonlethal areas, simply aiming for the best option at the moment. He doesn’t have the option to hold back, not with Fitz, Simmons, and Skye in danger. Skye’s returning fire as well, but he notes that _she_ is making a point of hitting nonlethal areas.

He’s out of bullets now, though. He curses and glances at Skye. “Cover me.” She nods and he lunges from behind the bar, tackling the closest man. He slams the butt of the gun against the man’s face, knocking him out. One man turns to fire at him, but Skye shoots the man in the shoulder before he can. He then immediately shoots himself toward the next man, grabbing the machine gun and shoving it back into the man’s gut. He then rips it out of the man’s grasp and uses it to shoot the man in the kneecap. The man screams and falls to the ground. Ward tosses the gun aside and turns his attention to the last man. He ducks to avoid the gunfire and that’s just as one of Skye’s bullets hits the man in the shoulder. Ward uses that distraction to punch the man in the face, before grabbing him and slamming him back against the wall, knocking him out.

He stands there for a moment, collecting his breath. He doesn’t hear any more gunfire, so he assumes the others have the rest under control. He then turns to Skye and Fitzsimmons, to make sure they’re alright. They’re staring at him over the bar and Fitz is slightly gawking.

“I’m not sure what’s happening, but that was impressive” the young man says and Ward’s lips twitch. His gaze meets Skye’s and he watches her let out a relieved breath, before the three slowly stand. He makes his way over to them.

“Everyone alright?” he questions, eyeing each of them for any injuries. They all look fine and the tension slowly starts to leave his body.

But then a man appears from around the corner and Ward grabs the closest person to him- Simmons –by the back of her shirt, bringing her protectively behind his body, while Skye’s got her gun back out in a flash. Neither of them is fast enough, though, and Fitz is too close to the man. The man grabs Fitz, slamming him face first into the bar to disorient him, before bringing him up against his body and pressing the barrel of his gun to his temple.

“Fitz!” Simmons screams, being held back by Ward, who’s seeing practically seeing red at this point. He has to remain focused and calm, though. He can’t let Fitz down, not again. He eyes his surroundings and curses mentally. The closest gun is too far away. There’s no way he could reach it in time to take a shot at the man, even if he could get a good shot without risking hitting Fitz.

“Let him go” Skye’s voice shakes slightly, but her grip on the gun is steady. There’s blood dripping now from the gash on Fitz’s forehead. Ward clenches his teeth.

“Come with us, and I’ll let him live” the man orders and Ward almost growls. _Not an option_. There has to be a way to save Fitz and keep Skye safe. There has to be.

“I said: let him go” she warns and there’s something different in her voice, something Ward hasn’t heard from her before. It’s almost deadly. She clicks the safety off her gun and he tenses further, were that possible. “ _Now_.”

“And I said that we have orders to bring you in” the man responds. He presses the barrel of the gun further into Fitz’s temple and the young man winces. There’s a defiant look in his eyes, though, and Ward can’t help but be proud. Skye’s eyes, however, have narrowed. There’s a coldness coming to them and he’s not sure what to make of it.

“Not happening” Fitz says defiantly, words slightly slurred from the concussion he no doubt has. The man’s finger flexes on the trigger and that’s when it happens: the man’s body locks up and Fitz slips from his grasp. Ward’s about to take the man down, but Skye’s already taking the shot.

She shoots the man right in the throat.

Ward freezes and Skye fires again, this time hitting the man in the forehead. She then fires again. And again. And everything is suddenly so wrong that Ward’s having trouble processing it, reacting. But he has to react, because Skye’s still shooting the man, though he’s clearly dead, and Fitzsimmons are terrified and this _isn’t_ Skye.

“Skye.” His voice is quiet, strained, and he has to swallow to make it clear. “Skye.” She doesn’t seem to hear him, though. She’s staring coldly at the body and _still firing_. She’ll probably keep shooting until she runs out of ammo, but he has to stop this now, before she does whatever she’ll do next. He doesn’t want to know what she’ll do next. He begins to walk toward her, slowly, hesitantly. “ _Stop._ ” She turns around and points the gun at him so quickly that he reacts off instinct, shooting forward and ripping the gun from her grip. He grabs her wrists and she struggles against him. He pushes past the fear gripping him and gives her a rough shake while pulling her toward him. “Skye! Stop it!”

She lets out a gasp as her body slams against his and he sees the life flood back into her eyes immediately and he can finally breathe again. His grip on her wrists loosens, but she’s clutching at his shirt now. Her breaths are quick and shallow and she’s shaking violently. Her knees buckle and give out and instead of keeping her up, he follows her to the ground. Her eyes are flickering around the room, unfocused and desperate, and he’s so afraid he can barely swallow. Fitz and Simmons and staring in utter shock, a mixture of concern and fear in their gazes.

“Get Coulson!” Ward snaps, because Skye is his only concern at the moment. To their credit, they barely hesitate before scrambling away to do so, leaving all of Ward’s focus on the gasping girl in his arms. “Skye, breathe.” He tries to keep his voice strong, but the fear and concern he’s feeling manages to force its way through. He watches as her breathing slowly calms, but she’s still shaking and her eyes are still wide. “What happened?”

She swallows. “I don’t know.” Her voice is choked and her eyes wander to the body. “Oh God.” He places a hand on the side of her face, forcing her gaze away.

“Look at me. Everything’s alright.” He’s not sure who he’s trying to convince more: her, or himself.

“What’s happening?” Coulson’s voice demands and Ward assumes Fitzsimmons must’ve explained to him, because there’s a panic in the man’s tone he hasn’t heard in a long time. Coulson’s instantly at their side, dropping to his knees. “Give her to me.” Ward doesn’t hesitate, shifting Skye’s grip off his shirt and transferring her to Coulson, who she instantly clings to. The man runs a hand over Skye’s hair, rocking her slightly and murmuring comforting words. His gaze snaps to Ward after a moment. It’s hard, but Ward knows he’s not the target of Coulson’s anger. “What happened?”

He stares at Skye, helpless. “I…” He swallows thickly. “I don’t know, sir.” May stands to the side, eyes stone cold, but screaming concern. Fitzsimmons are holding each other, gazes fearful and concerned. Ward’s never seen Trip look so worried.

“She did that?” he hears Trip murmur, and he assumed Trip is referring to the mutilated body nearby. He gives a brisk nod and hears Trip suck in a breath.

“It was dark” Skye whispers, gaining everyone’s attention immediately. Coulson hugs her tighter. “So dark.” The fear in her voice makes Ward want to break something. Break something and then whisk her away from everything that poses even the slightest danger to her.

It’s a moment later when Skye blinks and seems to snap out of it, pushing away from Coulson, who hesitantly releases her. She avoids their gazes.

“Skye…” Ward says quietly and her gaze snaps to his for the briefest of seconds, before returning to the floor.

“I’m fine” she says and it’s so obviously a lie that he doubts she expects them to believe her. There’s still a slight shake to her voice.

Coulson eyes her for a moment, face nothing but concerned. “We need to get out of here.”

“Can’t” May says, gaining everyone’s attention. “They cut the fuel lines.”

Ward frowns and everyone turns to Coulson. 

* * *

 

They drive as far away as possible- until they run out of gas. They find an old, cheap motel, where Ward suspects they’re the first people to check in in a long time. Skye is eerily quiet the entire time, which only causes his concern to increase with each passing minute. Coulson checks them in under fake names, getting them each a room of their own, but all on the same floor and all next to each other. Fitzsimmons stay in the same room, however, and Ward’s not surprised, knowing they tend to stick closer than usual after moments of trauma.

It’s not long after everyone’s settled in their own rooms, that Ward finds himself in front of Skye’s door. He stands there, staring at it. He knows he should leave her alone- surely, his presence does nothing more than complicate things for her? And the last thing she needs right now is a complication. But he can’t get the image of her shaking and terrified out of his mind. He can’t get the feeling of her desperately clinging to his shirt off his chest. He can’t forget how wide and vulnerable her gaze was. He doesn’t want to leave her side, not ever, but especially not until they’ve figured everything out and she’s safe again.

He’s still debating whether or not to knock or walk away, when the door suddenly opens, and Skye’s standing there, giving him an indiscernible look. There’s a moment of the two of them just staring at each other, as if waiting for the other to make the first move, but then Skye lets out a breath and glances away.

“Want a drink?” she says, obviously trying to sound as casual as possible. She turns and walks away toward the mini bar. He hesitates only slightly, before entering the room and shutting the door behind him. He glances around the dingy room, before turning his eyes to her and watching as she ruffles through the poor selection in the mini bar. He clears his throat slightly, but she doesn’t look to him.

“Skye…” he says hesitantly, and she pauses. “Are you alright?” It’s a stupid question, because she’s obviously _not_ alright, but he doesn’t know what else to say.

“Yeah” she says quickly, shutting the mini bar and standing up. She lets out a sigh and crosses her arms, averting her gaze. “No.” She looks to him and the look in her eyes makes him want to pull her into his embrace and protect her from anything and everything. He fights the urge and remains where he is, though. “I don’t know what happened, Ward.” Her voice is completely open, missing the edge it’s carried since his betrayal. His hand twitches as the urge grows stronger. “I just couldn’t handle the thought of Fitz getting hurt again so soon, and everything became so dark and…” She takes in a shaky breath and Ward’s chest hurts for her. “What if this is what Raina was talking about?”

“Raina’s psychotic” he says, because he’s not going to mention how he had had the same thought.

“I killed someone!” she cries and Ward flinches at the sudden outburst. “And I didn’t even have to! I could’ve shot him in the shoulder after he dropped Fitz or you could’ve taken him down or…” She shakes her head, hugs herself tighter, and looks away. When she speaks next, her voice is so quiet that he has to strain to hear. “I’m a monster.” She shivers.

“No” he says instantly, vehemently, walking up and lessening the distance between them. “That’s me, not you.”

She gives him a sad, humorless smile. “I’m not sure what you are, Ward, but it’s not a monster.” His heart thuds in his chest and he swallows.

“I won’t let anything happen to you” he says thickly, because if there’s any purpose left to his life, this is it. He’ll protect her with his dying breath, and he knows it. Judging from the look in her eyes, she’s realized this too. He tries to swallow again, but can’t. His palms are sweaty and this is it. He has to tell her how he feels, finally lay it all out on the table. “Skye… I-”

“Don’t say it” she says quietly, quickly, cutting him off. “Not yet.”

He doesn’t.

Instead, he stares at her, desperately, because everything is still so wrong and he doesn’t know how to make it right, if it could be made right. Their breaths are mingling and everything outside the motel room ceases to exist. There’s only Skye, and him, though he hardly deserves to be in her presence. But thus far she’s allowed it, and he can’t dishonor that choice. “What can I do?” He’s a lost boy, searching for his place in this world.

She stares at him for a moment, too many emotions in her eyes for him to count, before grabbing a fistful of his shirt. He’s not sure who exactly makes the first move- her, he thinks, but he meets her halfway –but their lips are suddenly meeting and he feels alive again for what seems like the first time in forever. He stops thinking and instinct takes over, tangling his hands into her soft hair. A moan rumbles from the back of his throat because, _God_ , he missed kissing her, touching her. The hand that’s not gripping his shirt slides into his hair and suddenly he’s pressing her back against the wall. One of her legs wraps around his hip and when one of his hands slips barely under her shirt, she doesn’t pull away.

He forces himself away, however. It’s less than an inch, though, and their noses are brushing. His eyes are on her lips and their breathing is deep and he’s having trouble focusing. “Skye… we shouldn’t…”

“It doesn’t have to happen again” she says, breathless. _That’s the problem_ , he wants to say, but doesn’t. “I just… I don’t know… I _need_ …”

He stares into her eyes, conflicted. He knows it’s wrong, and he knows that she knows it too. But she’s breaking, and he can’t let that happen.

So he lets her turn them around and lead him toward the bed. She reconnects their lips and he lifts her up, before laying her down and crawling on top.

He takes it slow, giving her every opportunity to back out. It’s also for his own good, so he can commit every inch to memory. He knows how likely it is that this will be their first and last time. He refuses to let it go to waste. She’s an altar, and he’s a dying man praying for forgiveness.

He doesn’t deserve her, not in the slightest, and he makes sure to keep reminding himself that. But there’s something in the way she’s looking at him now, that makes him think that someday, maybe that won’t matter.

Nonetheless, he makes sure to be gone by the morning. 

_“This is the last time I'm asking you this,_

_Put my name at the top of your list,_

_This is the last time I'm asking you why,_

_You break my heart in the blink of an eye”_


	10. Angel with a Shotgun

_“I'm an angel with a shotgun,_

_fighting 'til the war's won,_

_I don't care if heaven won't take me back._

_I'll throw away my faith, babe, just to keep you safe.”_  

The first thing he does the next morning, when he wakes in his own bed, is call Gayle using the phone Coulson had given him about a month ago. Before, he probably would’ve tried to compartmentalize it, stow it away for him to deal with on his own. He’s learned some things over the last few months, though, it turns out.

“Hello?” Her voice is groggy and it’s then he realizes it’s the middle of the night where she’s at.

“I slept with Skye” he blurts, before he has the chance to change his mind.

There’s a pause on the other end and he almost wishes the ground would open up and swallow him. When she finally responds, he can tell that she doubts she had heard him correctly. “What?”

“I slept with Skye” he repeats, swallowing. This was a bad idea. He wonders how mad she’d get if he were to hang up on her right now.

“Grant…” He can practically see her pinching the bridge of her nose. He’s silent, waiting for whatever reprimand she’s no doubt going to give him. He hears her let out a breath, before speaking again. “Alright, we’re both adults, so I’m not gonna ask you what you mean by ‘slept.’ So, tell me everything. Well, not everything. You know what I mean.” He sighs and runs a face down his face, before launching into an explanation, describing the events that led up to his encounter with Skye. Gayle’s silent the whole time, and a few times he can’t help but wonder if she fell asleep. But no, she’s probably just regretting ever getting involved in his life. He certainly would, at this point. When he’s finished with his explanation, there’s another pause before she speaks. “Ok… while there’s certainly a lot to talk about, let’s discuss the reason for your call: you slept with Skye.”

He nods, before remembering she can’t see him and clearing his throat. “Uh, yeah.”

He hears her sigh. “Ok, so, I wouldn’t have really recommended that for either of you.”

He closes his eyes in frustration aimed solely at himself. “I know. You told me not to pursue a relationship at this point, but we’re not getting into one.”

“And that’s a problem too.” He hears her sigh again. “Look, Grant, I’m not here to manage your sex life, but I don’t believe you’re at a point where you’re ready for casual sex _or_ a relationship.”

Ward frowns. “So, you’re saying it was a mistake.”

“It’s only a mistake if you view it as such.” There’s silence after she delivers that confusing sentence. She’s probably waiting for him to comment, say whether or not he views it as a mistake. He can’t do that, though, because he doesn’t know what to think, doesn’t know which viewpoint to take. There’s a part of him that recognizes it as something that probably shouldn’t have happened. There’s another part of him, though, that can’t seem to let him regret it.

 

_His fingers trailed lightly along her spine as she laid against his chest and he felt her shiver slightly. He wondered, were he to concentrate enough, if he could capture this moment exactly, with every detail, and save it. Or maybe he could just find a way to freeze time so this moment never had to end. He’d settle for slowing it, even, if only to prolong the inevitable._

_His eyes were on the ceiling and he felt her shift slightly. He had to ask, before he lost all his courage. “Does this change anything?”_

_She let out a sigh and began tracing a pattern on his chest. “I don’t know.” The tone of her voice suggested she didn’t know much of anything anymore and he hated it. “Will you be gone in the morning?”_

_He swallowed, and hesitated only slightly, before nodding. “Yeah.” His voice was quiet and after a moment, she nodded as well._

_“Ok.” There was a moment of silence, before he kissed her hair and breathed in her scent._

_“We’ll figure this out.” Once more, he wasn’t sure who he was trying to convince more._

“This complicates things,” Gayle says eventually, regaining his attention. “Just know that.”

“Alright.” He hesitates slightly. “Thanks.”            

“Any time, though I _would_ prefer it to occur during the PMs next time” she teases and he allows himself a small smile. 

* * *

 

 

It’s an hour later when he goes down and joins the team for breakfast. The motel offers a free “continental” breakfast, which basically consists of English muffins, mini boxes of cereal, coffee, and two blueberry muffins which are already gone by the time he gets there. He and Skye make eye contact once, before they both quickly glance away. It’s not long before he realizes she’s avoiding him, and a second later when he realizes he’s avoiding her too. _Dammit_.

If he had trouble focusing with Skye in the room before, it’s worse now. He has a feeling he’ll be having trouble focusing for the next few days, or maybe the next few weeks.

He barely even notices when he’s cutting Trip off and preventing the other man from grabbing the last mini box of _Fruity Pebbles_. Trip gives him an indignant, questioning look, but Ward ignores him, grabbing the box and handing it to Skye, who’s on the other side of Trip. He gives her a small, hesitant smile when she looks at him. She hesitates only slightly before grabbing the box and when she gives him a small smile of her own, he thinks he might fly.

Trip glances between the two as Skye turns away. He then gives a huff, rolls his eyes, and grabs a box of _Frosted Flakes_ , before turning away. Ward can’t find it in himself to be apologetic, mostly because Trip had once mentioned that _Frosted Flakes_ were his favorite anyway.

A little while later, it’s just Trip, Ward, and Fitz in the breakfast room. May’s getting gas, Coulson is using the restroom before checking them out, and Simmons and Skye are out by the concerningly green pool. Trip takes a bite of his cereal, before turning to Ward.

“What’s up with you and Skye?” Fitz pauses and glances between the two, obviously not aware of what Trip is talking about. Ward keeps his face perfectly blank.

“What do you mean?” He takes a casual sip of his coffee, but Trip isn’t fooled, still eyeing Ward questioningly.

“I thought you two got past the awkward avoidance stage of your whatever-it-is.”

Fitz’s muffin is completely forgotten as he watches the conversation. Ward shrugs. “Guess not.”

Trip raises an eyebrow skeptically. “B.S.” He glances from Ward to the window, where Skye and Simmons are visible and Ward finds himself following his gaze, eyes landing on Skye. His expression _must_ give something away, because Trip looks like he finally put the last piece in a puzzle. “Holy shit, you two slept together.”

Fitz is outright gawking now and Ward is having trouble keeping his composure. It doesn’t help that his damn cheeks are turning red like he’s some juvenile. “What? No.” Trip just gives him a look, though, and he knows he’s busted. How, he doesn’t even know.

“Bloody hell” Fitz mutters, looking like he might be in shock. Ward wonders if this is what it’s like to have friends, ‘cause if so he’s not sure he wants some anymore- which is a lie, he knows.

“You can’t tell anyone” he says eventually, trying not to sound like a desperate kid that got caught with his hand in the cookie jar. He makes sure to give a pointed look to Fitz, who he knows is likely to blab this all to Simmons as soon as he can. God, he can only imagine the reactions of the others. Coulson had threatened him just for sleeping with May, and that was _before_ he had betrayed them. And May, God, May would kill him. Brutally. He’s finally made a bit of progress in his relationship with her- he thinks, it’s hard to tell sometimes –and she’s going to kill him.

He suddenly finds himself with a headache.

Trip holds his hands up in surrender, giving a slight shake of his head. “Hey, your business, man.” He gives Ward a pointed look. “You just better not hurt her again, or else I’m coming after your ass.”

Ward nods, because really, he’d expect nothing less than that from the entire team. But he won’t hurt her again, he can’t. The thought is unfathomable. Even so, though, if it were to happen, he doubts the team could do worse than what he’d want to do to himself.

His eyes wander back to the window, watching as Skye and Simmons chat. He wonders what they’re talking about. Is Skye telling Simmons about last night? He wouldn’t be all that surprised, with how close the two girls are. It’s probably only a matter of time before the whole team finds out what happened. If only he knew for sure, himself.

He’s brought out of his thoughts abruptly when a nearby car explodes.

He reacts immediately, grabbing Fitz and pushing the young man under the table. Trip is reacting as well, pulling out his ICER and diving under the table. Ward counts to five, before looking above the table. There’s a thick plume of smoke and fire where the car was and some debris still falling form the sky. His eyes land on Skye and Simmons, scrambling out from the pool where they must’ve taken cover. He instantly makes reaching them his next priority. He has to be smart about it, though.

“Clear” he says and Trip is instantly up, ICER ready and leading the way. Ward follows closely, grabbing a slightly disoriented Fitz and tugging him along. It only takes a second for Fitz to regain himself, though, and soon he’s keeping up. They exit the building and they’re running toward Skye and Simmons and Skye and Simmons are running toward them. They reach each other and he eyes Skye up and down. “You alright?” Both girls nod.

“Where’s Coulson?” Skye asks, eyes glancing around fearfully. He’s about to tell her he’s not sure, but that they need to get out of there, when he sees a black _Honda_ racing toward them and someone inside it pointing a damn _bazooka_ at them.

“Down!” he orders and everyone instantly drops to the ground just as the bazooka is fired, exploding the section of the building directly behind them. He’s covering Skye, who’s covering Simmons, while Trip’s covering Fitz. Then they’re not wasting a second, getting up and running toward the building, but Coulson suddenly appears, blocking their path.

“Other way!” he barks and they turn around so quickly that Skye stumbles a little, causing Ward to grab her elbow to steady her. That’s just as the building behind Coulson explodes and they almost fall to the ground. There are more cars coming by the second and men pouring out of them, carrying machine guns. Panic is clawing at Ward and he finds himself unable to let go of Skye. Coulson glances around at everyone, eyes wide and brow sweating. He can see the conflict waging in the other man, before he comes to a decision. “Split up.” He looks to Trip and Fitzsimmons. “Trip, take Fitzsimmons.” He then turns and makes eye contact with Ward. And understanding seems to pass between them. “Ward, get Skye out of here.”

“What?” Skye demands, pulling herself from Ward’s grip. “No, not without-” He’s not hesitating to follow the order, though, grabbing Skye and throwing her over his shoulder. He’s running, then, going through the rubble and using the smoke and fire as cover. He forces himself not to look back. The team will be alright. Skye is his priority. Skye is the one they’re after. Skye is the one he has to protect.

They reach a fence and he sets her down. He can see the panic in her eyes, but she’s focused. She’s trusting him too, he realizes. He cups his hands and she steps into it, letting him give her a boost so she can climb the fence. He follows quickly, before grabbing her hand and leading her to the warehouse a few yards away. His eyes dart around, looking for any threats, and they press themselves against the warehouse wall near a door. He jiggles the doorknob. It’s locked. He curses, before looking for another option.

“There” Skye says, pointing and already moving. He follows her gaze to see a dumpster, and he supposes it’s the best they’re going to get at the moment. He follows her, shimmying behind the dumpster. There’s a pause and they both work on catching their breath. He can hear more explosions and the feint sound of gunshots in the direction of the motel. He swallows. _They’ll be alright. They have to_. He turns his eyes to Skye when she starts to speak. “So, um, about last night…” He can’t help but give her an exasperated look, because is she really bringing this up _now_? Of course she is. “I don’t regret it.” Her words are fast, jumbled. He stares at her, torn between the emotions he feels at her words and the fact that they’re still in danger and shouldn’t be discussing this now. She’s looking directly into his eyes, gaze resolute. “Just thought you should know… just in case.” She gives a small smile and he wonders how she can look so optimistic while giving such a grim statement. He about to provide some sort of comfort- he’s not sure what words to use, though –but he can hear cars screeching closer and he knows it’s time to go.

“C’mon” he says urgently, grabbing her hand and pulling her from behind the dumpster just as several cars screech up. There are bullets being fired and he pushes her behind a corner. He follows, but not quickly enough: a bullet passes through his shoulder and he grits his teeth as he stumbles, hand going to clutch his shoulder.

“Ward!” Skye goes to support him as he stumbles forward, but he pushes past the pain, forcing himself to his feet. “You’re shot!”

“We need to go” he grunts, even as his vision swirls a bit. He forces himself to run, only a step behind her. They reach a house with a “For Sale” sign and he doesn’t even pause, slamming himself against the door. It swings open and he falls forward. Blinding pain shoots through his shoulder as he hits the ground and he bites his tongue to keep from crying out. Although he’s plenty used to pain, it’s still been a while. Skye helps him up, gaze screaming concern. He catches a glimpse of his shoulder and sees that his white T-shirt is completely red there. “Close and barricade the door.” She does so quickly, closing the door, and he helps her pushes a China cabinet in front of the door using his good shoulder. He’s quickly becoming exhausted though, the pain and blood loss taking its toll. “Basement.” They make their way there as quickly as possible. Skye’s practically supporting him and he curses himself for weighing her down. He wants to tell her to leave him behind, but he knows she wouldn’t do that. She’s too damn stubborn.

He sits himself down in the basement, at a spot where he’d have the best possible aim, should they storm the basement. He takes out his ICER, groaning at the movement. He turns his eyes to Skye, expression conveying how serious he is about his next words. “See that window?” He jerks his head toward the small basement window that he’s sure Skye would fit through with enough willpower. Her eyes narrow, catching onto him already. “If they start to come in here, you get out of here as fast as possible.” She’s shaking her head before he’s even done with his sentence.

“I’m not leaving you.” There are black spots filling his vision, but he pushes them away.

“It’s you they want, not me.” He commits her face to memory. It would be so easy to drift off into her deep eyes.

“Exactly, they’ll kill you.”

He averts his gaze and shakes his head. “Doesn’t matter.” _Not if you’re safe_.

“The hell it doesn’t” she says fiercely, grabbing his face and forcing him to look at her. He forces his eyes to remain open. She opens her mouth to say something, but there’s suddenly a loud _boom_ and the ground quakes and he knows they’ve exploded the house above.

“Skye” he says, and he’s about to give her his ICER and tell her to run for it.

But he glances up to see the smirking face of John Garrett.

The world slows to a still and he freezes, body locking up. _No. It’s not possible._ But Garrett’s standing there, smirking at him, and he can only vaguely hear noises in the background. His heart is racing and his mouth is opening, but no words are coming out. Garrett raises an eyebrow, as if waiting for him to say something, but he can’t think, can’t process anything. Everything is a blur except for Garrett standing in front of him and he doesn’t feel anything, can’t feel anything, because this isn’t possible.

He forcefully blinks and Garrett’s suddenly gone and he’s deciding to blame the blood loss. _Skye_. The thought of her hits him like a freight train and he turns.

She’s gone.

Panic is clawing through him, ripping him apart, as he looks around frantically. “Skye?!” The basement opening is open, but there’s no one around. How did he miss them opening the basement door? He looks to the window, to see that it’s completely intact, meaning Skye hadn’t exited through it. _No, no, no._

He tries to stand up, but his vision is blurring and everything’s becoming dark and his body is cold. _No_. He has to fight it. He has to find Skye. He has to protect her.

But it’s a losing battle, and the world blacks out not a moment later. 

_“They say before you start a war,_

_you better know what you're fighting for._

_Well baby, you are all that I adore,_

_if love is what you need, a soldier I will be.”_


	11. Russian Roulette

_“'Calm yourself', He says to me_

_If you play, you play for keeps._

_Take the gun and count to three.”_  

When he wakes, he’s still in pain, but he’s not in the basement anymore. He’s in the lab, and Fitzsimmons are peering down at him. He blinks groggily and lets out a groan.

“Oh, he’s awake! Fitz, go get the others” he manages to make out and not a second later, Fitz is leaving his line of sight. He turns his attention to Simmons, who’s holding a stitching needle and wearing latex gloves. Why-?

Prior events rush back to him and he sits up in a flash, ignoring the blaring pain in his shoulder and startling Simmons. “Where’s Skye?!” He looks around frantically, as if hoping to see her standing nearby, but it’s only Simmons and him in the lab. Still, maybe she had managed to escape and had simply left him to go to get help.

Simmons expression is a mixture of fear and irritation. He can tell the fear isn’t for herself, or even him for that matter, and that worries him. “We don’t know. Now would you please-”

“I’m fine,” he snaps, standing up. “We need to find Skye.”

“You have a _bullet_ wound and it needs stitch-”

“We need to find Skye” he repeats, somewhat harshly, because his damn shoulder is the least important thing right now. _They_ have Skye and it’s all his fault. He couldn’t protect her and now she’s in danger who-knows-where. He didn’t even notice them storm the damn basement because he was too busy having a damn hallucination.

“Sit down, Ward” Coulson suddenly orders, entering the room just behind Fitz. The tone of the man’s voice has Ward instantly obeying and sitting down in the chair. He’s a bit surprised when Simmons shoves his good shoulder, forcing him to lean back in the chair.

“Whether you like it or not, I’m going to take care of you” Simmons says sternly, before she begins stitching his wound, probably deciding to get started before he possibly protests. He winces slightly as the needle threads through his skin, before pushing it from his mind. It’s her words, though, that have the biggest impact, the idea of them foreign.

“We’re going to find Skye” Coulson says. The man’s gaze is hard and Ward wonders if Coulson blames him. He certainly would. “And you can’t help with a gaping bullet wound in your shoulder.”

Ward nods briskly, trying to control his breathing. He needs to calm down and think straight. But how can he possibly do that when Skye’s in danger?

He glances up as May and Trip enter the room and he allows himself to feel a wave of relief at the fact that everyone’s alright. _Everyone except for Skye._ He eyes each team member, looking for any sign of serious injury. Aside from some cuts and bruises, they each look unharmed. May seems to sense the reason behind his gaze.

“We believe their main focus was on obtaining Skye” she says, probably in explanation of how they managed to get away so unharmed. He nods, glancing down. It’s all his fault. He should’ve protected her. 

* * *

 

The world is a blur as Skye slowly wakes. She lets out a small groan and rubs her eyes. There’s a dull ache in her skull, so she must’ve had some fun last night. Wait- her eyes dart open as the memories start to come flooding back. She remembers the motel getting attacked, running, Ward getting shot, hiding in the basement, and Ward completely zoning out- from the blood loss perhaps? She then remembers men flooding the basement, and she had managed to take out a few of them with Ward’s ICER, before being captured. Everything goes black after that. _Crap_

She sits up and looks around. She’s in a rundown room- warehouse, maybe? The windows are boarded up, with some light streaming in from some gaps between the pieces of wood. It’s probably the middle of the day. The air is a bit chilly, but not uncomfortable. She’s unrestrained, which is both a good and a bad thing. It’s good because, well, because she’s unrestrained. It’s bad, because that means whoever has her is confident in their ability to overpower her.

She stands up slowly, running a hand through her disheveled hair. Her hair is completely dry- having gotten wet from when she and Simmons had dived into the pool for cover when that car had exploded –which means that they’ve had her for at least a few hours. She eyes the room some more, she doesn’t _see_ any sort of surveillance, but that doesn’t mean there isn’t any. She looks to the one door. _Couldn’t hurt, right?_ She walks up to it cautiously and wiggles the doorknob. It’s locked, of course. She hadn’t really been expecting anything different. She returns to the center of the room, looking for any other possible openings or anything, really, that might come in handy.

She feels his presence before he even opens the door. Her back straightens automatically as a shiver crawls up her spine. The air is suddenly tense and she has to swallow before turning.

He gives a wicked grin. The kind nightmares are made of. “Hello, daughter.” 

* * *

 

“What happened?” Coulson asks, gaining Ward’s attention. Ward swallows and averts his gaze.

“Right after we split up, sir, we ran and jumped the fence near the warehouse. The door to the warehouse was locked, so we hid behind a dumpster. They caught up with us, though, and that’s when I got shot. We managed to make it to the house and we hid in the basement. I told her to leave me, but…” He lets out a sigh and shakes his head slightly. “Then they took her and I passed out.” He finds he can’t mention his hallucination. It’s irrelevant, though.

“And they just left you alive?”

Ward shrugs, wincing as the movement jars his shoulders. Luckily, Simmons doesn’t miss a beat, putting in the last stitch. “Probably thought I was gonna die anyway.” Coulson frowns and there’s a beat. A lump forms in Ward’s throat, that he can’t seem to swallow, so he speaks around it. “It’s my fault.”

“No” Fitz says immediately, walking up next to Ward and eyeing everyone, as if to challenge anyone who thinks otherwise. Ward is reminded once again how little he deserves Fitz’s faith. He glances around at the others’ faces. No one seems to be disagreeing with Fitz and he doesn’t know what to do with that.

Simmons starts wrapping his wound and he glances up, brow furrowing. The plane is landed and the ramp down, but they’re not where he last remembers. “Where are we?”

“D.C.” Coulson responds and Ward’s brow furrows further.

“Why?”

“Because we need to find Skye. Fast.” 

* * *

 

Skye glares and forces herself to remain rooted to her spot. She has the urge to flee, though, to throw herself out the window. “Let me go.” She keeps her voice steady. She can’t show her fear, even if it currently feels like he’s drinking it from her veins.

He tilts his head. The room shrinks a little. “Why would I do that?” His voice is nails on a chalkboard, but deep as an abyss.

She swallows and clenches her fists to keep her hands from shaking. “My team will find me. And they’ll kill you.” She clings to her faith.

But he’s suddenly right in front of her and it feels like he’s ripping it out of her chest. “I would not be so sure.” She remains defiant, but she has the sense of being slammed into the ground repeatedly. “I left your male comrade with a distraction.”

_Ward_. The thought of him is like a bucket of ice water being thrown on her faces. She focuses on the sensation. “Ward? What did you do to him?” She takes a step forward, which is a mistake, because he leans his face toward hers and she’s frozen by his gaze.

“I reawakened one of his demons.” She doesn’t like the sound of that, not one bit. “He is plagued by them, constantly, consciously and subconsciously. They will consume him.”

She goes to slap him, but freezes, crying out, just before her hand makes contact with his cheek. She clutches her hands as it erupts in pain and her knees buckle. It feels like it’s being pulled apart, tendon by tendon.

And then the pain is gone and he’s not in front of her anymore, he’s behind her. She turns, but no, he’s not there either. He’s everywhere, yet nowhere, and she has no idea how that’s possible. _The monsters had an influence over the mind_ , she vaguely remembers May’s voice saying. None of this is real. None of this is real, but does it really matter?

“What do you want from me?” she demands, unable to keep the shake out of her voice.

He’s whispering in her ear, but he’s across the room: “Everything you were born to be.” And then suddenly he’s pushing her and pushing her until her back hits the wall and the room’s closing in around her. 

* * *

 

“He was there” Coulson says after a moment, voice more quiet than before. Everyone turns to him and Ward can tell he’s not the only one confused by the statement.

“Who was where?” Trip asks, brow furrowed.

Coulson glances away. “Skye’s father. He was there, at the motel.”

May gives him a look of confusion. “How do you know that?”

It’s Coulson’s turn to be questioning as he looks at the others. “You didn’t feel it? The darkness?”

The others all exchange a look, before shaking their heads.

“No” Ward says. Things had only felt different when the blood loss had taken its toll and he had hallucinated. Other than that, he couldn’t remember feeling anything other than panic and adrenaline.

Coulson frowns and simply shares a look with May.

It’s but a few minutes later, just as Simmons finishes wrapping his wound, that Gayle arrives, gaining everyone’s attention. Her walk is stoic and she cuts straight to business when she reaches Coulson.

“Raina will take too long” she says, frustration seeping into her tone.

“Did you get the files I sent?” Coulson asks.

She nods. “Read them on the way. Did you do what I asked?”

Coulson nods as well. “I had May rough him up.”

Ward is suddenly the only one out of the loop and his brow furrows. “Rough who up?” he stands, slipping on the shirt someone had laid out for him. Coulson turns to him briefly.

“The prisoner we managed to grab.” _Oh_.

“I’m going to interrogate him” Gayle explains shortly, before turning back to Coulson. “Lead the way.” Coulson nods and does so. Everyone else goes to follow as well. Ward glances toward the ramp.

And freezes. There, standing and staring at him, is John Garrett. _No_. It’s just another hallucination. But he’s not suffering from blood loss this time and he can’t think of another explanation. It’s not possible, though. It can’t be possible.

He blinks, and Garrett’s gone.

“You ok, man?” Trip, who had stopped with Ward, questions. He glances between Ward and what’s now an empty space, eyes concerned. Ward works on calming himself and clears his throat before responding.

“Yeah.” He nods. “Just… thought I saw something.” This only seems to alleviate some of Trip’s concern, but the other man doesn’t question him.

They catch up with the others quickly, just as Gayle turns to the group. “I want Grant in there with me.” Ward’s brow furrows in question and he turns to Coulson, who nods in affirmation. So he follows Gayle, stopping with her as she turns to him just outside the door to the interrogation room. “Follow my lead.”

He nods, but stops her just before she opens the door. “You sure you can get through to him?”

She raises an eyebrow slightly. “I should hope so. This is what I was originally contacted to do to you.”

His brow furrows. “What?”

“Mental torture.” She gives a small shrug. “I did it sometimes for the old SHIELD. Now are you ready?”

He eyes her for a moment, before deciding to stow away his questions for later, and nods. He slips on an emotionless mask just as she opens the door and they enter the room.

Saying May “roughed” the man up is a bit of an understatement, but he also isn’t half-dead, so Ward decides to consider the man lucky. Gayle walks up to the other side of the table and stands directly in front of the man, crossing her arms.

“Hello, Fred” Gayle says lightly and Ward realizes the files Coulson had mentioned must be ones on the prisoner. Facial recognition must’ve gotten a hit on him. “You’ve got some answers we need.”

Fred glares at her. “I’m not talking.”

Gayle gives a thoughtful frown and shifts to her right. “Really? That’s funny, because I don’t know what you have to gain from that.” She shrugs and her face is questioning, yet sympathetic. “Your leader abandoned you. Like your father, your mother, even that ex-girlfriend of yours.”

Fred flinches ever-so-slightly, but a worshipful look comes to his face. “It was a sacrifice I had to make.”

Gayle frowns. “But, somehow, there was time to collect the others who had been knocked out?” The worship falters the slightest bit. “Why is it that you’re never good enough for anyone, Fred? Always trying so hard, but always falling short?” Fred swallows and Gayle gives a soft, understanding smile. “But that’s ok, you know what it’s like: looking out for number one. So, why don’t you do yourself a favor, and tell us where your leader is?”

The man is silent, but there’s the hint of conflict in his eyes. He and Gayle stare at each other for a solid minute, before she suddenly turns away.

“Break his fingers” she says flippantly, keeping her eyes on the wall. Ward keeps the numerous questions off his face. She had said to follow her lead, so that’s what he’ll do. He moves to do as told.

“No! Wait-” Fred exclaims and Ward stops his motion when Gayle’s suddenly turning back around, slamming her hands against the table and leaning forward.

“What?!” she demands. “You can’t talk now! Why on Earth would you turn on the only one who gave you purpose for so many years? Are you a coward?” Ward’s pretty sure he’s never seen an interrogation like this. Fred blinks, before his look becomes determined and Ward’s sure they’ve lost him. Gayle’s speaking again, though, quick and purposeful. “Virginia.”

“What-?”

“Montana. California. Florida.” Ward isn’t sure what she’s looking for, but she must find it, because her gaze narrows and she straightens. She’s then going to exit the room without another glance back. “Set your course for Florida. That’s where Skye is.” 

* * *

He slams his hands against the wall on either side of Skye’s head and suddenly he’s pressed up against her, invading every inch of her personal space. His body is hot and his breath rank and she’s going to puke. She turns her face away, not bothering to withhold the tears gathering in her eyes and now falling down her cheeks. He runs his nose lightly down the side of her face and she lets out a whimper. He’s shrinking the air in around her and she can feel herself shriveling away.

“You do not know what you are capable of” he hisses lowly and his voice sends needles against her skin.

“Go to hell” she chokes out. She can’t breathe. She can’t breathe but she can still smell him. How can she still smell him?

“I am already there.” It’s practically a purr and he runs his hand through her hair, nails scraping against her scalp. She can’t remember ever really praying before, but she’s praying now. “And you are going to join me.”

“Never” she whispers. Her voice shakes so much she can barely understand herself. She feels him breathe her in and a tremor rocks through her body. _Oh God_. Her eyes are open, but suddenly everything’s dark. Everything’s dark and she can’t see a damn thing and _where is she_? She doesn’t know anymore. She can barely remember her own name; can barely remember what’s happening or why she’s there. She closes her eyes to rid herself of the unnatural darkness, but there are symbols flashing beneath her eyelids and her head is pounding now as if someone’s slamming a hammer against her skull again and again and again.

“There is a darkness in you.” His voice echoes, bouncing off the walls and slamming straight into her. Her knees buckle and she shakes her head.

_No, no, no. I am Skye. I am Skye. I am good_. She repeats the mantra in her head once, twice, until it’s a background noise in her mind and it’s filling the air and she’s sucking it in like a revived child.

“Release it.” He’s speaking again and he’s sucking the air away as her throat closes in on itself. “Let it consume you. Become what you are meant to be. What you were born to be.” She’s so, so cold, but everything is on fire and she wonders if she’s been shot in the gut again. He slams his hand against the wall and suddenly he’s roaring, shattering her bones. “ _Release it_!” There’s something inside her, clawing and straining. It’s going to snap. It’s going to snap and-

She thinks about Trip and his calm demeanor. She thinks about how humble he is beneath his cool exterior. She thinks about him letting her pet his head without a word of protest. She thinks about how he never fails to make her smile.

She thinks about May and her steady presence. She thinks about her courage and the pain she hides behind her eyes. She thinks about her wisdom and the way she can say everything without a single word. She thinks about May training her: tough, expectant, consistent. She thinks about how May has never once underestimated her.

She thinks about Fitz and, _God_ , how resilient that boy is. She thinks about his never-ending optimism and how he laughs at his own jokes. She thinks about him fumbling over his words during a moment of shyness. She thinks about how much he loves monkeys. She thinks about him and Simmons when they’re in that bubble of theirs.

She thinks about Simmons, now, and her determination to always do her best. She thinks about her babbling on and on about science-y stuff that just goes right over Skye’s head. She thinks about how bad she is at being bad. She thinks about how, when push comes to shove, Simmons is one of the bravest people she knows. She thinks about how, somewhere along the way, she became the sister Skye always wanted. She can’t imagine a world without Simmons.

She thinks about Coulson and his warm eyes. She thinks about how Coulson had brought her into this in the first place and believed in her from the start. She thinks about how if it weren’t for him, she wouldn’t have her family. She thinks about his never-ending optimism and his determination to see the good in everyone. She thinks about how, out of everyone, Coulson is a _dad._ Any bastard could be a father.

She thinks about Ward- oh God, _Ward_ –and how broken he is. Yet he still fights. He fights for his identity and he fights to heal. She thinks about his deep eyes and how she just wants to get lost in them every single day. She thinks about the small smile he only ever gives her and the words she knows he wants to say but can’t get out. She thinks about the feel of his skin and the taste of his lips. She thinks about how someday she’ll let him tell her he loves her and, just maybe, she’ll say it back. She thinks about how much he’s hurt her and all the ways she knows he’ll make it up to her in time. She thinks about playing _Battleship_ with him and how she’s never felt more at peace.

These people are her _family_. And this monster in front of her? He’s _nothing_ , just a dot on the map of her life that she has to erase.

So she opens her eyes and erases him. 

_“And you can see my heart beating_

_You can see it through my chest._

_Said I'm terrified but I'm not leaving_

_I know that I must pass this test_

_So, just pull the trigger”_


	12. Light 'Em Up

_“Be careful making wishes in the dark, dark_

_Can't be sure when they've hit their mark_

_And besides in the mean, mean time_

_I'm just dreaming of tearing you apart”_

He can’t sit. It takes all of his willpower to simply stand still. He wants to go to the punching bag and take out his frustration on it, but even he knows that’s a bad idea with a bullet wound in the shoulder. So, he grows more and more worried and agitated with each minute that passes without Skye safely back with them. Gayle keeps glancing at him, having long given up on trying to calm him. He almost wishes she had decided to stay behind in D.C., because the last thing he needs is someone worrying about him. But she had simply brought it up to Coulson that, when they get Skye, they might need her expertise. Her use of the word _when_ had almost negated the pain he felt at what she had implied. Almost.

“We touch down in fifteen” Coulson says, walking up to the two and gaining their attention. They nod and Coulson nods back, before walking off to most likely inform the others. Ward watches him go.

Standing to the side is Garrett. Ward freezes. _Goddammit_. This can’t be real, it can’t be. This is proven when Coulson does nothing but walk right past the man. But if it’s not real, then, what, he’s insane? He swallows. It certainly feels real. Garrett’s eyes are screaming _disappointment_ and _failure_ and Ward feels the man’s presence as if he never left. He doesn’t know what to do, what to think.

He forces himself to blink and Garrett’s gone. His eyes flicker over the spot where Garrett just was. So, he’s either gone mad, or he’s being haunted. He’s not sure which he’d rather have.

It’s a moment later when he realizes Gayle is giving him a concerned look. “What was that?”

He swallows, glances away, and makes his tone casual. “What was what?”

Gayle gives him a look that he’s all too familiar with. “Grant, I’m an expert on body language, and what I saw there? Pure terror.”

Ward frowns and tries desperately for an excuse. He knows he should tell her. But he can’t. Their focus needs to be on Skye. She’s the priority. He can sort out his own problems.

Luckily, Coulson returns then, followed by the others, and motions to the mission room. They follow, and all gather around the table. Coulson brings up the blueprint of what looks like a large warehouse. “The Florida base of the _Sǐwáng_ is one of the largest. Fitzsimmons and Gayle will run point in the van, in case either one of your expertise is necessary. The rest of us are going in. The goal is to simply find Skye as soon as possible and then evac. She is our priority.” They all nod.

“How are we getting in?” Ward questions, eyeing the blueprints.

“You and Trip will go in through a doorway on either side. May and I will make a door for ourselves in the front while providing a distraction.” Ward raises an eyebrow in question and a smirk flashes across Coulson’s face. “They’re not the only ones with a bazooka.” For a moment, there’s a collective smirk throughout the group, and Ward finds himself joining in. Coulson then eyes everyone. “Everything understood?” They all nod and Trip speaks.

“Let’s go save our girl.” 

* * *

“Everyone in position?”

“Affirmative.”

“Affirmative.”

Ward’s feet hit the ground as he jumps down from the fence, before quickly running up and pressing himself against the wall by the door. He eyes around him. He doesn’t see any guards or security cameras. “Affirmative.” The warehouse is rundown, with graffiti and splotches of old paint to emphasize as much. Every window he sees is also shattered, which is odd, but not enough to arouse any extra suspicion from him.

“Alright,” Coulson’s voice says in his ear, “on my signal: one, two… three.” Ward can hear the bazooka go off and not a second later the ground quakes slightly as the front of the building is exploded. He doesn’t hesitate, though, slipping in through the door, ICER ready. A group of three men go running past the hallway he’s in, toward the explosion and Coulson and May, and he shoots them quickly and precisely. He then proceeds down the hallway, checking every room. He stops quickly and presses himself against the wall just as a door opens. The door conceals him as men pour out. The door closes just behind the last man, though, and Ward’s spotted by him.

“Hey-!” He’s already moving though, seeing an opportunity. His fist darts out, slamming into the man’s face and disorienting him. He then grabs the man by the front of his shirt and shoves him into the room. He follows, the door swinging closed behind him. The man tries to throw a punch, but he dodges it easily and knees him in the gut. The man grunts and Ward swings him around, slamming him against the wall.

“Where is she?” he barks. The man’s face remains blank. Ward’s about to use more drastic measures- restraint be damned; they need to find Skye –but a door on the other sides of the room bursts open. _Dammit_. He slams the butt of his ICER against the man’s temple to knock him out, before pivoting around and firing at the oncoming men. One manages to reach him, swinging a fist toward his face. He dodges and punches the man in the gut. The man stumbles back slightly, but quickly gathers himself, going to kick Ward in the ribs. He kick lands and he grunts, but quickly grabs the legs, before kneeing the man’s leg and dislocating the knee. The man cries out and falls to the ground. Ward resituates his grip on his ICER and shoots the man.

He’s then exiting the room and continuing down the hallway. He turns a corner, but that’s just as ten other men turn the corner at the other end. They spot him before he can slip away, so he’s instantly firing. He takes out three men, before he’s suddenly out of ammo. There’s no time to grab his other ICER, either, as he’s slammed into by another man. 

* * *

 

Simmons wrings her hands together worriedly as the three in the van wait for any communications. Fitz eyes her for a moment, before shifting closer and placing a comforting hand over hers. “Quit fidgeting, everything’s going to be fine.”

Simmons nods weakly, offering a slightly mangled smile. “Yeah, of course.” Gayle watches the two, before there’s suddenly a loud banging on the van doors and they all jump. “Oh not again.” Neither she nor Fitz knows what she means by that, but they don’t question it as they hear the lock being picked.

“Where are the ICERs?” Gayle demands, but there’s no time as the doors suddenly swing open.

“Holy-!” Fitz exclaims and Gayle’s grabbing the first thing her hand lands on- a laptop, hopefully not Skye’s. She swings it toward the man and he curses when it hits his face. And then suddenly an ICER is fired and the man slumps to the ground. She turns to see Fitz’s holding it, eyes wide.

But then another man appears from around the corner and Simmons screams, slamming a whole computer console on top the man’s head before anyone else can react and knocking the man out. Fitz and Gayle stare for a moment.

“So, is this every day for you?” Gayle comments nonchalantly. Fitz and Simmons exchange a look before nodding and replying in sync.

“Yes.”

“Pretty much.” 

* * *

 

Ward grunts as his back hits the wall. He doesn’t pause though, bringing both of his elbows down on the man’s back while kneeing him in the stomach. The man gives a gasp and releases him and that’s just as Ward grabs his head and slams it into the wall to knock him out. There’s no time to collect himself as another man reaches him, and this time it’s one who’s actually carrying a gun. Ward grabs the gun just as the man fires, sending the bullet into the ceiling. He then punches the man directly in the face, breaking the man’s nose. He quickly slips the gun out of the man’s grip and uses the butt of it to knock the man out. He turns then to face the next man.

But May’s suddenly there, appearing behind the man. She jabs him in the neck before putting her hands on his shoulders and using him as leverage to wrap her legs around the neck of another man, who she then throws to the ground. Ward’s got his other ICER out in a flash, shooting the man. May’s then back on the ground, flipping the man she had used as leverage and Ward quickly shoots him as well. There are three men left and Ward shoots two of them, because May’s grabbing the other by the throat and slamming him against the wall.

“Where?” she demands, her voice is calm but holds a definite threat.

The man grits his teeth. “What?” His voice is choked, with May probably only allowing him just enough oxygen to speak.

“The girl.”

“I don’t-” May’s free hand darts to his wrist. There’s a crack. The man screams. May doesn’t blink.

“Where?”

The man musters a glare. “Go to-” There’s suddenly a blade in her hand, but it’s not there for long. A moment later, it’s in the man’s thigh. The man let’s out another scream and Ward can’t find it in himself to feel anything. His entire focus is on finding Skye. He has no problem with May doing what she needs to do.

“Where?” May repeats. Her hold on the man’s throat tightens for a moment.

“I-in the back!” the man chokes out and not a second later, May is slamming him back against the wall and knocking him out. She makes eyes contact with Ward and he nods before tapping the communicator in his ear.

“Skye’s in the back, sir.” He follows a step behind May as they make their way toward there.

There’s a grunt on the other end before Coulson answers. “Alright, everyone converge there.”

“Got it” Trip’s voice says and May and Ward pick up their pace. They reach the back just as three men turn the corner. Ward shoots two of them and May has the other unconscious before he can shoot him. They then pause, looking at the several doors lining the back hallway. May’s instantly checking one side of the hallway while he’s checking the other. He feels his desperation grow more and more with each empty room he encounters.

The third room he checks isn’t empty.

John Garrett stands in the middle of the room, an expectant smirk on his face. Ward freezes, barely noticing as the door swings shut behind him. His grip on his ICER loosens and suddenly it’s falling from his hand and he doesn’t know why but he can’t seem to care.

“Took you long enough, kid.” It’s like a punch in the gut as Garrett speaks. His hallucination hadn’t spoken before.

He swallows. “You’re not real.” This is it: he’s finally gone insane. He’s not sure if he should be surprised.

Garrett raises an eyebrow and walks toward him. Ward doesn’t realize he’s backing away until his back hits the door. “I’m plenty real, son.” Garrett chuckles and the word _son_ has Ward’s head spinning.

He shakes his head. “You’re dead.” Surely, something that had caused him so much pain, confusion, and anger had to have been real? He wouldn’t be surprised if the guards who had mentioned it were lying, but Coulson had told him so and Gayle had confirmed as much.

Garrett only seems amused. He claps Ward on his bad shoulder and he flinches so badly that the back of his head hits the door. He resists the urge to let out a hiss of pain as it irritates his wound. The touch is chilling and he doesn’t know what to think of it. What to think of anything. “Didn’t think I could be stopped that easily did you?” Disappointment flashes in Garrett’s gaze and Ward wants to vomit because he doesn’t know what to think of that either. There’s a moment where Garrett’s probably waiting for him to say something, but he can’t. This isn’t real. It can’t be real. Why does it feel real? Garrett shrugs and jerks his chin to the side. “C’mon, I’ll bust you out, kid. We’ll cross off Coulson and the team and grab the girl before we leave this place in our dust.” He smirks. “And don’t worry about the bracelet. I know a few tricks.”

Ward’s heart is thundering in his chest and everything is colliding: who he was, who he is, who he wishes he was. Garrett’s words hit him like a truck and something rises in his chest. It’s the feeling he got after the plane was attacked and he saw a bruise on Coulson’s cheek; when he saw an attacker go toward the med-pod and heard Simmons scream; when he was in a room surrounded by guns and knew Trip would get hurt if he made a move; when he saw a shattered window and realized May was the one who shattered it; when an attacker had grabbed Fitz and used his life as a bargaining chip; when Raina made every threat against Skye. And he knows he has to choose, right now. He’s flashing back through every moment that lead up to this. He remembers those few moments of _good_ in his life, and how some of them _had_ been with Garrett. He remembers the injustices that he now realizes he had experienced, not all of which committed by Garrett. He remembers his six months of daily therapy and the lessons he’d been unable to process until now.

The world stills as he realizes the choice had been made some time ago, but it had been a broken puzzle. Now, though, he has all the pieces.

“No.” The word is like a mint: fresh, strong, and with a taste that takes a moment to get used to.

The amusement on Garrett’s face instantly dries up and he frowns. “You can’t be serious.” His grip on Ward’s shoulders tightens suddenly and Ward can’t help the hiss of pain. Then, suddenly, he’s being pressed against the door and Garrett’s in his face. “Is this all for that girl?” Ward’s fists clench and he glares back defiantly, determined not to show the fear he’s feeling. Yes, Skye is a factor- the biggest of them, really –but so is Coulson and Fitzsimmons and Trip and May and Gayle. His family’s a factor. Buddy’s a factor. Garrett himself is a factor.

_Grant_ is a factor.

“Did you forget all I’ve done for you?” Garrett demands. Ward doesn’t blink.

“Never.” But he can see every regret of his being manifested in Garrett’s gaze.

His thoughts are cut off suddenly as Garrett’s fist slams into his stomach and not a second later right into his face. He stumbles to the side and before he can react Garrett’s grabbing him by the shoulders, fingers pressing into the bullet wound and popping some stitches, and shoving him forward. He falls to the ground and he needs to fight back, _has_ to fight back, but he doesn’t know how.

“I really should’ve seen this coming” Garrett comments, tone nonchalant, which is worse than his rage, because it means he’s in control. And Ward isn’t. He has to change that, somehow. “You’ve always been _weak_.” Garrett’s foot comes swinging toward him.

He rolls out of the way and jumps to his feet. “Maybe.” He’s breathless, but it feels like he’s breathing new air. He doesn’t say another word, instead he lunges, fist connecting with Garrett’s jaw. He’s not sure how he did that, but he does it again. And again. And again.

“Ward!” He freezes and Garrett’s suddenly gone, nothing but an empty space. He works on calming his breathing and racing blood- to no avail –before turning to see Trip standing in the doorway, eyeing him with concern. “You ok, man?”

Ward looks back to the spot where Garrett was just moment ago. “Yeah.” He’s not sure if it’s a lie or not, but he’ll figure it out later. He has other priorities. One, in particular. He turns back to Trip. “Found Skye?” The frown and shake of his head Trip gives him makes all thoughts of himself flee.

He follows Trip out of the room, arriving at the same time Coulson enters the hallway.

“There are more doors,” May says curtly, “keep searching.” They all go to do so, a new, unbreakable sense of determination amongst them. Then, Coulson’s voice calls out.

“Here!” Ward feels a wave of relief hit him so strongly, that he almost pauses. But he doesn’t, exiting the room he was checking. He enters the room Coulson’s in just before May and Trip. The scene’s so familiar that suddenly, he can’t breathe and has to force himself to remain upright: Coulson kneels in the middle of the room, Skye in his lap. She’s limp, eyes closed. Coulson’s face is pale, fingers pressed against Skye neck. He looks up when the other reach them, Ward dropping to his knees.

“There’s no pulse.” 

_“All the writers keep writing what they write_

_Somewhere another pretty vein just dies_

_I've got the scars from tomorrow and I wish you could see_

_That you’re the antidote to everything except for me, me”_


	13. Cold

_“God and His priests and His kings_

_Turn their faces_

_Even they feel the cold”_

Everything is shattered.

They put Skye in the passenger seat of the van. The ride back to the bus is mostly silent, aside from a moment early on when Fitz suddenly asked Simmons why she was crying and Ward wished they carried actual guns instead of an ICER, because he would’ve rather put a bullet in his skull right then and there than listen to Simmons say the words to Fitz. They pull up the ramp and there’s a pause after Coulson cuts the ignition, before they all file out. Ward doesn’t want to leave the van. He knows it’s his last wall of denial and that, as soon as he steps out, he’ll have to face the harsh reality. He opens the door and steps out anyway.

He doesn’t feel anything, just pain.

Coulson removes Skye from the van, picking her up bridal style with her head tucked beneath his chin. Ward wants to vomit because it looks like she’s sleeping, but she’s not. She’s never going to wake up and he’s never going to sleep again. He wishes he would, so maybe he could never wake up either.

Coulson lays her down gently on a table in the lab and sits in a nearby chair. Simmons walks up, sniffling with Fitz closely behind her, and starts to gently stroke Skye’s hair. Gayle leaves after a minute, with a quiet and strained offer to talk if anyone needs it, probably to allow the team private time to grieve. There’s silence amongst the group then. It’s broken only when Simmons lets out a sob and quickly turns into Fitz’s ready arms. He buries his own tear-streaked face in her hair. Trip isn’t bothering to hide the few silent tears that streak down his face as he glares at the wall. May’s face is completely unreadable, but he can sense the rage behind it. Coulson, well, Coulson looks broken. Ward wonders what he himself looks like. Probably like nothing, because that’s what he is: nothing.

There’s an icy touch to his pain, the only thing that lets him know he can feel anything anymore at all.

Coulson’s phone starts to ring. Everyone looks except for Ward. He can’t. If he were to take his eyes off the shelving of medical supplies, then they might land on Skye, and he can’t do that, not yet. Because it’ll break whatever control he has left.

Coulson doesn’t move either, eyes not leaving Skye’s face. The phone continues to ring and, after a moment, May walks up and fishes the device from his pocket. She answers it just as she exits the room.

There’s a beat, before Coulson is suddenly speaking, voice barely above a whisper. “There has to be something we can do.” Ward would agree, if he didn’t already know there wasn’t anything. She has no pulse and there’s no miracle drug this time.

Simmons shakes her head and turns her face from Fitz’s shoulders. “There’s nothing.” Her voice is choked with grief. “No miracle drug, nothing.”

Coulson stands up abruptly and everyone except for Ward jumps. “No, there has to be something.” His head whips to the side, though, as May enters, carrying the phone.

“That was the cleanup crew,” her voice is emotionless, yet uncharacteristically soft. “They found a body the _Sǐwáng_ were in the process of memorializing. The body has no external injuries, but is completely brain dead.” She pauses. “It might be Skye’s father.” Coulson is there in a flash, grabbing the phone and putting it to his ear as he exits the room. May spares one last indiscernible glance to Skye, before following him.

Then it’s just Fitzsimmons, Trip, and Ward in the room. Along with Skye. But Skye’s not really there. And it kills him.

He wishes he could leave the room, but he can’t. He’s paralyzed.

A moment passes, before Trip glances between Ward and Skye. The other man clears his throat slightly and wipes at his eyes. He then walks up to Skye, places a hand on her head, and leans down to place a quick kiss on her forehead. He then walks up to Fitzsimmons.

“Let’s get some air” Ward hears him murmur. After a moment, Fitzsimmons both nod and then make their way out of the lab. Ward wishes they wouldn’t. He doesn’t want to be alone, can’t be alone, because now he has no choice but to face what’s right in front of him. His throat is closing up, but that’s fine, because he’d rather not breathe. He’d rather not do anything, except fall into an endless void and never come out.

Still, he finds his legs carrying him toward the table. His eyes remain on the wall, though, and he just stands there for a moment. He swallows and it feels like his chest is collapsing in on itself. His hands are starting to shake, so he clenches his fists, but it doesn’t help. He takes a deep breath.

And looks at her.

She’s beautiful, of course; she could never not be. If it wasn’t for the paleness to her skin, he could probably convince himself that she _is_ asleep. But she’s not, and he finds himself falling to his knees. He doesn’t care that there are tears gathering in his eyes and he feels like he’s choking on his own air. His mind is racing for an explanation to the situation besides the obvious, and coming up with none. “Skye.” His voice breaks and he says her name like she’s his last salvation, as if just saying it will bring her back. He waits. It doesn’t. He doesn’t touch her. He wants to, but he can’t. He couldn’t handle feeling her skin so cold. He just couldn’t.

 

_"I won’t let anything happen to you.”_

 

He’s up and moving in a flash, exiting the lab and ignoring the gazes of Trip and Fitzsimmons, who are standing just outside the ramp. He’s bounding up the staircase and he can feel it building with each step: the rage. He reaches the living room area and inwardly curses when he sees Gayle, who’s up and out of her seat as soon as she sees him.

“Grant…” she says softly, but he walks right past her. “Grant!” She stumbles slightly in her effort to catch up with him. Every sound is nails on a chalkboard. “Grant! I know you don’t want to talk, but you need to! You can’t bottle it all up!” He turns into the bathroom and slams the door behind him, quickly locking it. He hears her fist hit the door. “Goddammit, Grant!” He tunes out whatever else she might say and paces the bathroom.

 

_“What are you doing?” he asked, not taking his eyes off the pages of his book. He’d felt her eyes on him for the last minute. He’d been enjoying the quiet, but he supposed some things weren’t meant to last._

_“Staring at you.” Her tone was casual and matter-of-fact. He finally glanced up from his book to look at her._

_“Why?” He’d gathered as much that she was staring at him. The question was for what reason. He hadn’t eaten all that recently, so he doubted there was something on his face. Maybe she was just trying to annoy him? It seemed to be a running trait of hers since she came onboard. Although, if he admitted it to himself, he had stopped being all_ that _annoyed since after she’d been sent into Quinn’s place._

_“You have a nice face.” If his cheeks were red, it was because someone turned on the heat. He’d been complimented on his looks before, so really, her doing so shouldn’t have been so different. She shrugged. “And I’m bored.” Of course she was._

_An idea struck him, though. Ok, he could work with this. He placed his bookmark in his spot and set the book down. He crossed his arms as he looked at her, the slightest smirk on his face. “Ok, then how about some training?”_

_She made a face. “I’m still sore from yesterday, thanks.”_

_He frowned and stood up from the seat. “You can’t expect to surpass your limits if you don’t push them.”_

_This only seemed to amuse her as she rolled her eyes. “Ok, Obi-Wan.” It was his turn to roll his eyes, before he walked over to the television area and ruffled through a cabinet. “What are you doing?” He didn’t answer as he found what he was searching for. He grabbed it and turned back around. She eyed the object in his hands and a grin slowly stretched onto her face._

_“Training” he said simply, making sure his face is completely serious as he walks back up to her._

_“_ Battleship _? Really?” she asked as he set the game down on the table and sat himself in the seat across from her. He nodded. There was a surprised twinkle in her eyes as she grinned and he couldn’t look away. He didn’t really want to, either. She looked at him for a moment more, before shrugging and going to open the box. “Ok, prepare to taste_ defeat _.”_

_He barely managed to resist a grin of his own and kept his face neutral. “I wouldn’t be so sure of that.” He didn’t belong there, not at all, and he didn’t fool himself into believing he did. But, maybe, just maybe, things could still work out._

 

God, he’s _worthless_. There had to have been something he could’ve done to prevent this. Why didn’t he do anything? He could’ve done so many things differently. He could’ve been quicker, smarter.

He could’ve just stayed away from her from the very beginning.

He looks to the mirror and suddenly, he can’t _stand_ the sight of himself, someone who had failed Skye so horribly. He grits his teeth and before he knows it, he’s pulling his fist back and then slamming it into the mirror. His knuckles sting as small shards of glass stab into them, but he doesn’t care. It’s almost a relief, actually. Physical pain had always been more tolerable.

But he’s still so _angry._ His body is vibrating with it. And he’s not just angry at himself- though, he’s certainly the focus of it. He’s angry at Coulson for letting Skye get caught up in this damn mess in the first place. He’s angry at Coulson for telling _him_ to take Skye when the motel was attacked and not Trip. Surely, if she had gone with Trip, she wouldn’t have been taken. Trip wasn’t having damn hallucinations. He’s angry at Raina for bringing Skye to her father’s attention in the first place. He’s angry at Skye’s father. Hell, he’s angry at everything and everyone.

 

_“You shouldn’t be up” he said, leaning against the wall. Skye jumped, letting out a curse and hitting her head on the fridge ceiling. He frowned and was instantly there. His hands went to her head, as if to check for injury, but he stopped himself just before touching her. His hands hovered awkwardly for a moment, before he returned them to his sides. “Are you alright?”_

_She nodded and rubbed the area on the back of her head. “Yeah.” She turned her gaze to him and gave a sheepish grin. “Don’t tell the warden, but I’m starving.” She held up the cup of yogurt in her hand as evidence. He rolled his eyes slightly, but his lips twitched as he fought a grin. He watched as she opened the yogurt cup, grabbed a spoon, and took a seat on one of the barstools. She then turned her gaze back to him as she took a bite of the yogurt. “What are you doing up? Got the munchies too?”_

_He shrugged and glanced away. “Couldn’t sleep.” He knew instantly that he should’ve come up with some other excuse when Skye’s gaze softened._

_“Are you ok, Grant? Really?” The use of his first name had his heart giving an extra_ thump _. “I mean, what that Asgardian bitch di-”_

_"I’m fine” he said quickly, too quickly. She stared at him another moment, before turning her eyes to her yogurt. She grabbed it and hopped off the seat, fiddling with the spoon for a moment, before returning her deep gaze to his._

_“I’m gonna go back to my temporary quarters. If you want, you can come and we can, I don’t know, talk.” She bit her lip and he realized she was once again offering her shoulder. He wanted with all his might to take her up on the offer, but he couldn’t. He couldn’t let her get more caught up in everything than she already was. Besides, he had to look at the bigger picture._

_He swallowed and gave a slight shake of his head. “I should go back to bed.” He offered a small smile and he knew that she didn’t buy it for a second. She nodded after a moment, looking away, and he instantly missed her gaze. She went to leave, but paused just in front of him._

_“Well, g’night, Ward.” He could tell that she was trying to sound as chipper and casual as possible._

_“Goodnight, Skye” he said quietly, and then he watched as she left._

He slowly moves his fist from the shattered mirror. His fist is slightly bloody, with little cuts all over it. His breathing is deep and he finds himself begging, _praying_ for something, _anything_ to fix this whole mess. He’d gladly offer up his life in return. There’s not much to it anymore, anyway.

There just _can’t_ be a world without Skye. It’s impossible: to live a life without knowing her smile is out there somewhere. He can’t imagine the air not holding her breath and the world not being seen by her eyes. He doesn’t want to think about a single day going by without her making a witty comment. It’s unnatural, a slip in the natural order of things. It has to be a mistake. He’s never really believed in a “higher power,” but he’s willing to, if Skye comes back. And that’s all he asks, all he’ll ever want again.

He takes a deep breath in, holds it, and then lets it out. He has to talk to Coulson. He has to tell the other man that he agrees, and that he’ll do whatever it takes to find a solution to this all.

He opens the bathroom door and almost closes it again when he sees Trip, Fitz, and Gayle standing nearby. She gives him a pleading look, but remains silent at his warning glare. He goes to walk away, but freezes when he feels a familiar presence.

He turns and there’s Garrett, standing in the corner with a smirk on his face. “Shame about the girl.” He _tsks_ and shakes his head as he takes a step forward. His eyes glint maliciously. “She could’ve been of such use.”

He doesn’t care anymore, about anything. His vision is narrowing in and all he sees is a target: something to take out the rage he feels. Something to hit and kick and scream at. And not just something that will stand by and take it, something that will punch back.

He lunges.

“Hey! Hey!” he hears Trip’s voice exclaiming and suddenly there’s a restraining hand on his chest, just before he can reach Garrett.

“What’s happening?” Fitz questions, eyes wide as he glances between Ward and Garrett.

Ward tries to control his breathing. “Check my stitches.” His words are curt and come out through gritted teeth as he glares at Garrett. He distinctly remembers his stitches popping during his earlier confrontation with Garrett. There’s a pause and Trip frowns, glancing at Gayle, who’s watching the whole thing with a critical and concerned gaze, before he moves Ward’s shirt off his shoulder for a moment.

“They’re fine” Trip says, confusion entering his tone. Ward takes a deep breath and closes his eyes.

He then turns away from Garrett.

There’s a moment of silence and he finally opens his eyes when Trip speaks. “You alright?” No, of course not; Skye’s lying downstairs without a heartbeat and he’s hallucinating his old mentor. He’ll never be alright again.

Gayle walks up to him and looks up until she catches his gaze. “What just happened, Grant?” Her voice is soft, as if speaking to a broken child. Maybe that’s what he is. He wants to answer her, though he doesn’t know the words to use. Still, he opens his mouth-

Suddenly every piece of glass in the plane shatters and he grabs Gayle to shelter her as they all drop to the ground. He looks up a moment later, but he doesn’t have time to question it as they suddenly hear Simmons’ shrill scream from down in the lab.

“ _Guys_!” They’re moving toward the lab instantly, Ward ahead of the group. He’s down the stairs in a flash and entering the lab and-

Being greeted by Skye’s wide, alive eyes. 

_“What you are given_

_Can't be forgotten_

_And never forsaken”_


	14. Your Guardian Angel

_“When I see your smile_

_Tears roll down my face I can't replace”_  

He’s frozen in his spot. It can’t be real. _Please let it be real_. It’s probably just another hallucination, though. But everyone else is frozen as well, staring at her. So, if they can see her too-

“What happened?” she asks, eyeing everyone. Her voice is slightly breathless, but it’s the best damn sound he’s ever heard. Her gaze seems to grow more concerned as the silence stretches, but not a second later, May and Coulson arrive. They halt in their tracks, but then Coulson’s past him in a flash, pulling Skye into his arms.

“Oh thank God” Ward hears the other man murmur and he realizes this is _real_. Skye is alive. Skye is _alive_. The word’s never been so beautiful and he feels like he can breathe again. The world is righting itself and everything is going to be ok. The last couple hours were simply a vivid nightmare he’d been forced to live through. The world once more has worth.

Skye hugs Coulson back for a moment, before pulling away and eyeing everyone with concern. “What happened?”

Coulson’s brow furrows. “What do you remember?” Everyone slowly makes their way into the lab, as if getting over their initial shock, except for Ward. There’s a part of him scared to move, afraid he’ll suddenly wake back up to a world without her. Besides, he can’t seem to stop staring at her face.

Skye bites her lip for a moment, before her eyes focus in on the wall behind Coulson. “I remember being captured…” Her eyes dart to Ward. “How’s your shoulder?”

It takes a moment before he’s able to speak. “Fine.” His voice is strained, because the last possible thing he wants to talk about is himself. She’s the one who’d been without a heartbeat for _at least_ five hours before they had found her, according to Simmons.

She looks relieved and he wants to tell her to stop being so concerned about him, but she turns her attention back to the wall and continues speaking. “I don’t know how long it was before I woke up, but _he_ came in.” Ward knows instantly she’s talking about her father, judging by the dark look that flashes across her face for a moment. “He tried to get me to unleash ‘the darkness in me.’” She swallows and her voice goes quiet for a moment. “It almost worked…” She shivers and he finds himself taking a step toward her, before she’s speaking again, a sense of satisfaction now in her tone. “But I got rid of him.” Her brow furrows thoughtfully and Coulson opens his mouth, probably to ask her what she means by ‘got rid of’, but she’s speaking again. “I must’ve passed out right after that.” Everyone exchanges a look except for Ward, who still can’t seem to stop staring at her. He doesn’t think he’ll ever be able to take his eyes off her again. Skye catches the look, though, and eyes everyone questioningly. “What’s with the faces?”

Coulson swallows and Simmons speaks hesitantly. “Skye…”

“You didn’t have a heartbeat,” May finishes. “You were dead for hours.”

Skye’s eyes widen and her face pales slightly. She glances at everyone, as if for confirmation. Their faces must provide enough answer. “What? That’s not…” She shakes her head as she trails off and runs her hands down her face, giving a sigh. “Not the strangest thing we’ve seen, actually.”

Trip laughs and the sound comes out with a great amount of relief. “Girl’s got a point.” The other man is grinning now, clearly ecstatic that Skye’s back. A grin flashes across Skye’s face as she glances at him. She turns her attention back to Coulson and the man speaks.

“You say you ‘got rid of him’,” the man says, brow furrowed. “He was found brain dead. Did you do that?” She shrugs.

“Um, yeah, I just knew I had to get rid of him and there was this big surge…” she trails off, as if at a loss for words. Coulson eyes her.

“How?”

She turns sheepish almost immediately. “About that…” Her eyes scan the room.

And then suddenly the plane tilts.

Both Trip and Gayle each let out a curse and they all stumble to the side. Ward grabs the doorframe to the lab to keep himself upright. The plane is righted not a moment later, though. They all stand there for a moment, shocked, before turning their gazes to a still sheepish Skye.

“Did she just…” Fitz trails off, looking between everyone in the room with wide eyes.

“Move the plane?” Gayle finishes for him, gawking.

Skye’s grin stretches slightly. “No, um, I actually messed with your equilibriums.” She gestures around the room. “Kind of why nothing was falling off the shelves.” They all look to the shelves, as if for proof, to see everything perfectly in place. They then turn their gazes back to her and, after a moment, Coulson is the first to speak.

“That’s…” he seems to be at a loss for words.

“Fascinating” Gayle supplies, but grows sheepish as everyone glances at her, before turning their attention back to Skye.

“How long have you been able to do that?” Trip questions, raising his eyebrows. Skye shrugs.

“Since I woke up. I just kind of sensed it, I guess. I mean…” Her brow furrows, as if looking for the right words. “I can _feel_ your minds.”

Fitz blanks. “So you can”- he pauses and twirls his finger over his temple –“read our minds?”

She grins and shakes her head. “No, just feel their presence. And influence them, I think.” She frowns and makes a helpless gesture. “I don’t know, I just woke up, but it kind of feels like it’s been there all along?” Her face is hopelessly confused and Ward realizes she’s trying to figure this out as much as they are.

Coulson opens his mouth, but stops when May is suddenly beside him, placing a hand on his shoulder. “We can figure it out later.” She turns to Skye with a soft smile and Ward can see actual affection in her gaze, along with relief. “We’re just glad you’re ok.” She leans in and suddenly, she’s hugging Skye. Skye blinks, probably as surprised as Ward is, before smiling softly and hugging the woman back.

“Glad to be alright” she jokes lightly as she pulls back, before slipping off the table. She faces Simmons as the other girl approaches her with a teary smile. She raises an eyebrow and smiles. “Not going to ask how I miraculously came back from the dead?”

Simmons shakes her head as she reaches her. “No, I think I’m just not going to question this one.”

Skye nods. “Mhm, it’s killing you isn’t it?”

Simmons nods quickly. “Slightly.” Both girls laugh and Skye pulls her in for a tight hug. They linger in each other’s embrace for a moment, before pulling apart, and Skye’s instantly grabbing Fitz- who had walked up to join them –into a hug. Fitz hugs her back just as tightly, before Trip’s pushing his way in.

“Hey, I’m glad you’re alive too” he says lightly and Skye laughs before hugging him. Ward watches the whole time and he almost finds himself smiling, because he knows that Skye’s found the one thing she’d been searching her whole life for: a family. She’ll never be alone again. She’ll always have support, shelter, and love. And he knows he couldn’t have asked for any better for her.

After a moment, Gayle joins the group and gives Skye a light hug, though she’s clearly relieved as well. When they pull back, though, he sees Gayle’s lips move, saying something quietly to Skye. Skye’s eyes dart to him and he _knows_ they’re talking about him. Skye says something back just as quietly and then she straightens and looks to the others.

“Hey, guys, can I have a moment with Ward?” His heart thuds in his chest, but he makes sure to keep his face as neutral as possible when everyone glances toward him. They all nod after a moment- how could they deny Skye anything now? –and make their way out. Coulson is hesitant, but eventually nods and follows the others after May gives him a look.

And then it’s just him and Skye.

She walks up to him, eyes concerned. “Ward-” Suddenly the last bit of restraint he’d held in front of the others is gone and evaporated, because she’s there, in front of him, _alive_. He’s reaching and grabbing her and pulling her to him before she has a chance to react. She doesn’t fight him, though, instead wrapping her arms around him. He buries his face in her hair and kisses her head.

“Skye,” he says brokenly and he realizes his body is shaking as badly as his voice. He takes a deep breath to try to calm himself. “Don’t ever do that again.” His eyes are pinched shut, but there are tears gathering in them. He doesn’t care, though. All he cares about is that Skye is alive and in his arms and, _God_ , does he love her. He loves her with every inch of his body and he had never thought that was possible before, but it is.

“I’ll try my best” she says, voice muffled by his chest. They stand like that for a moment, quiet and breathing in sync, before she slowly pulls back and he reluctantly lets her. He stares at her, openly, and lifts a hand to twirl a lock of her soft hair between his fingers. He then notices how soft and concerned her gaze is and his brow furrows.

“What?” he asks softly.

“Gayle said there’s something going on with you” she says and he frowns, before shaking his head.

“No, I’m fi-”

“Grant.” The use of his first name has him instantly silenced. She sighs. “Let me see.” He blinks in question, but her hands are suddenly on his face, caressing it. One of her thumbs lightly traces the scar on his cheekbone and he finds himself leaning into her warm touch. Her expression is that of concentration and he’s about to ask her what she’s doing, but John Garrett’s suddenly right behind her and his heart is leaping to his throat.

He grabs one of her wrists. “Skye-”

“Hold on,” she says immediately, refusing to budge. “My father said he did something to you, and… there.”

And suddenly, it’s almost as if a weight’s being lifted from his mind as he sees Garrett evaporate right before his eyes. He blinks and stares at the empty space for a moment, before turning his gaze to Skye, who has a small, satisfied grin on her face.

“What did you do?”

She shrugs. “Fixed it.”

“How?” he asks, though he’s not sure it matters.

She moves her hands off his face and he releases her wrist, instantly missing her touch. “Not sure.” He stares at her for a moment. There are a million questions he wants to ask, but he suspects she doesn’t have the answers either. Skye’s the first to look away, glancing toward the pieces of broken glass littered on the floor. Her eyebrows rise. “What happened here?”

He grins slightly. “You, probably.” She gives him a questioning look. “All the glass I saw at the warehouse was shattered as well.”

She nods thoughtfully. “Huh. Wonder if I’ll be able to get out of cleanup duty?”

He shakes his head slightly and doesn’t fight a small smile. God, he’s glad she’s alive. “You’ll probably be able to get out a lot of things for a while.”

The grin she gives him is mischievous. 

* * *

 

It’s quiet as he stares out the window the next day, watching the clouds roll by. He’s the only one not downstairs, but it’s not for long. He looks up as Gayle slips into the seat in front of him.

“Surprised you could tear yourself away” he comments casually. She gives a slight roll of her eyes, but there’s a small grin on her face.

“Hey, what Skye can do now is psychologically fascinating,” she defends, before raising an eyebrow. “I could say the same to you, though. This is the first time you’ve left her side except to sleep.”

He glances away and shrugs, before bluntly changing the topic. “I hear we’re on route to D.C. You’re not sticking around?”

She gives him a look at the change of subject, before shrugging. “I have responsibilities there.” She grins lightly and glances around. “Besides, this thing is already pretty crowded.” She turns back to him and gives a wink. “Maybe someday, though.” He nods and feels a small smile flash across his face, but Gayle’s suddenly looking at something behind him. He’s about to turn to see what’s captured her attention, but her eyes are back on him, a soft look to them. “I’ll talk to you later, Grant.” She places one of her hands on top of his and he blinks. She then stands up and, as soon as she’s out of sight, Skye is suddenly taking her place.

“Hey” she says nonchalantly. He raises an eyebrow.

“Hey.” They eye each other for a moment, before he clears his throat slightly and speaks. “Taking a break?” Not long after she’d woken up, she’d insisted that they figure out the details of her new abilities. Trip had volunteered as guinea pig almost immediately and Ward still isn’t sure whether he respects the other man more for it or questions his judgment. Both, probably. So far, all they’d found out is that she can’t _control_ the minds, merely influence them.

She shrugs. “Yeah.” A large grin suddenly came onto her face. “You should’ve seen it, though. I gave Trip the urge to make out with Fitz. It was hilarious.” He glances away, but he can’t possibly fight a grin as he pictures the scenario. “Trip was like ‘I kind of want to make out with you dude’ and Fitz went _so_ red.” She laughs and Ward can’t help but chuckle. Silence passes between them then, before Skye suddenly leans forward, a soft expression on her face. “What’s bothering you?”

He raises an eyebrow. “Did you read my mind?” He knows she can’t do that, but he’s still acclimating to everything. Besides, it’s the best attempt at a diversion he can think of. It doesn’t work, of course, as all she does is cock an eyebrow at him. He sighs, knowing he has no other option than to voice what’s been plaguing him. “Are you sure you want to mess with these… powers? What if you…” He hesitates and swallows.

“What if I go dark side?” she finishes for him and he nods after a moment. She sighs and runs a hand through her hair. “It’s a possibility, I guess.” She frowns. “I mean, there is… _something_ there.” Worry climbs from his chest and up his throat, but a second later, she gives him a small grin. “But I like to think of myself more like Luke than Anakin.” He scoffs. Of course she’d try to add humor to it. Deep down, though, he knows she’s as scared as he is. She’s just choosing not to let that get in her way. She smiles at him reassuringly for a moment, before leaning back. “Well, I’m gonna go back down to the lab.” She tilts her head to the side slightly, giving a small smile, and he knows instantly he won’t be able to resist whatever she’s about to ask of him. “Want to come?”

He lets out a breath. “Sure.” She grins at him triumphantly and is instantly out of her seat. She goes to leave, but pauses next to him. Before he knows it, she’s leaning down and placing a kiss on his cheek. His heart leaps.

“I’m glad you’re back” she says quietly and he instantly catches the double meaning to her words. She’s gone before he has a chance to respond, though. He sits there for a moment. He knows not everything is fixed and they still have a way to go. _But_ he also knows that they’re on their way, and that’s all he can really ask for.

He gets up and makes his way to the lab. When he arrives, everyone’s already gathered there, watching casually as Skye stares at Trip. He leans against the doorframe and crosses his arms. Coulson notices him and walks up to him.

“Ward,” the man says as he reaches him and Ward instantly straightens.

“Yes, sir?”

“We need to talk about your situation,” Coulson says and Ward’s brow furrows. He’s aware that by now, they’ve got everyone’s not-so-subtle attention. “We can discuss it privately, if you want.”

He frowns. “What do you mean?”

Coulson sighs. “The deal Gayle and I made with the Board of the prison, in order to get you out, was that we needed you to consult on the case regarding Skye’s parents.” Ward glances to Gayle. Her expression is neutral, but she gives a small nod in confirmation. “It’s a military prison and SHIELD’s relationship with the government is rocky at best.” He swallows.

“So what now?” He knows what’s going to happen next, though: when they reach D.C., he’s going to be sent off the plane with Gayle and shipped straight back to the prison. He’ll complete whatever time there is left on his imprisonment and then, well, who knows.

Coulson’s eyeing him, though, gaze critical. There’s a moment, before he finally speaks. “That depends.” Ward gives him a confused look. “Depends on what you want.”

There’s a thickness growing in his throat. “What I want?” Coulson nods and Ward realizes he’s serious, that it’s an open statement, and there are infinite choices. He doesn’t know what exactly the right answers are, or the wrong ones for that matter.

Just like a few months ago, when he’d been given another offer, he doesn’t look to Gayle, but a moment flashes through his mind.

 

_“You’ve done some terrible things, and you and the people around you are going to have to face that someday.”_

_He didn’t bother pointing out that there was no one around him. “I already-”_

_Gayle shook her head. “No, not_ admit _it:_ face _it and_ accept _it. You need to make amends with yourself and those around you. There’s no way you’ll be able to move on with your life if you don’t.”_

 

He _does_ look to the faces of the others, though. Most of them are blank like Coulson’s, giving nothing away. Fitz looks hopeful, though, and Ward once again feels unworthy of his faith. His eyes land on Skye, then, and there’s a certain reassurance in her gaze that makes him believe everything will be alright. It makes him believe that he knows the right answer.

He does.

He turns back to Coulson. “I’d like a list, sir, of all the people I killed for Hydra.” Concern flashes in Coulson’s gaze and he opens his mouth to comment, but Ward continues. “It’s not to punish myself. I would just like to make amends… somehow.” He makes eye contact with Gayle for a second. There’s a small, soft smile on her face and her eyes are moist.

There’s a pause and Ward waits with baited breath before Coulson gives a nod and speaks. “Alright, and after that?”

He swallows and looks him straight in the eye, earnestly and openly. “I’d like to come back, sir. If you’ll have me.” He looks to everyone in the room then. Trip and Fitz are both grinning and even Simmons has a small smile. May’s unreadable, but when he looks to her, she gives the slightest dip of her head. Skye’s gaze is soft and approving.

Coulson smiles and there it is, Ward can feel it: hope. “We’ll see.” 

_“And now that I'm strong I have figured out_

_How this world turns cold and it breaks through my soul_

_And I know I'll find deep inside me I can be the one”_


	15. Turning Page

_“If I had only felt how it feels to be yours_

_Well I would have known_

_What I’ve been living for all along_

_What I’ve been living for”_  

“I’m in” he says quietly, just loud enough for the communicator disguised as a blue tooth in his ear, as he exits security. He eyes the large, open room. It’s a banquet hall, but it’s being used for a press conference today.

“Got it” Skye’s voice says, before he hears a sigh. “Wish I could go in with you.”

He takes out a recorder and fiddles with it, making sure he appears casual. “You know that wouldn’t work.” He’s careful with his words in case of any eavesdroppers.

“Yeah, ‘cause it’s too dangerous, I know.” There’s acceptance in her voice, but he knows that, were it any other circumstance, she’d be arguing more. Even she’s not willing to take the risk, though.

He joins the group of reporters gathered around the podium. Any minute now, the conference should begin, and he’ll be able to slip away. He tunes out most of the conversations going on around him and needlessly resituates the glasses on his face, which Skye had insisted he wear to complete the look of “average Joe reporter.” He almost sighs when he notices a younger man with a camera glance at him.

“Kind of interesting, huh?” the young man asks. “How Nelson Tech has managed to dominate the industry in just a few months?”

Ward shrugs. “Robert Nelson is just a genius, I suppose.” Or corrupt as corrupt can get, but he’s not playing a conspiracy reporter right now.

The younger man nods thoughtfully. “Yeah, I guess.” There’s a hint of suspicion in the other man’s tone and Ward almost smirks. “Hey, who are you with, by the way?”

“The Bee” he lies easily. He receives a questioning look in response and shrugs. “Small, local newspaper.”

The other man nods. “Oh, cool, I’m with _The Daily-_ ” All conversations are instantly halted as Robert Nelson walks onto the stage and the other man is soon too busy taking pictures to talk. Ward’s grateful. He doesn’t think he’ll ever be one for small talk, really.

The conference begins and he tunes out most of the words, instead waiting for an opportune time to slip away. The moment comes about five minutes into the conference, when for a brief second; there isn’t a single pair of eyes in his direction. He slips out from the back of the group, instantly setting his target on a nearby security guard. He pretends to be messing with his recorder, as if it’s malfunctioning, and collides right into the other man. The security guard gives an _oof_ , but they both manage to stay upright.

“Sorry, sorry” Ward apologizes awkwardly, needlessly straightening the other man’s suit while picking his ID right off his chest.

“It’s fine” the other man says curtly and Ward makes his expression sheepish, before walking away. He quickly drops his press ID into a trash can before clipping on his stolen security badge. He’s then bounding up the stairs, making sure he looks confident and comfortable, as if he belongs there. He glances briefly at the conference, before turning down a hall. He grabs the glasses off his face and tucks them into one of his coat pockets.

“Which room?” he questions, eyeing the numbers.

“Um,”- there’s a pause –“two-twenty-seven. There’s a device on the WiFi there, but I can’t get into it, so it’s probably one of theirs.” He’s already making his way to the room, reaching it about halfway down the hallway. He stops in front of the door and takes out the recorder he had stashed in his pocket, before tapping his knuckles against the door.

“Yeah, come in!” he hears a female voice say. He enters the room and instantly eyes the room. There’s no one else in there but a middle-aged woman with a Nelson Tech staff badge. He looks to the laptop she has on a desk. It’s got the Nelson Tech logo on it. Perfect. The woman only glances briefly to his security badge. “There a problem?” He shakes his head as he shuts the door before walking up to her.

“No, ma’am, just got a report of a disturbance from a nearby room.” He says casually. The woman frowns as he reaches her.

“What? That’s-” He presses a button on the recorder just as he puts it right in front of her face. A small puff of blue smoke comes from the recorder and straight into the woman’s face. She blinks in surprise and waves at it, but she’s out cold before she can even voice her surprise. He catches her as she slumps and lays her on the ground, before turning his attention to the laptop. He doesn’t bother sitting in the chair as he presses another button on the recorder and a flash drive pops out. He plucks the flash drive from the device.

“Plugging flash drive in now” he says just as he does so. “Sure this will work?”

He can practically see her raise an eyebrow. “Are you doubting me?”

He doesn’t fight his grin. “Never.”

“Good boy” she says lightly and he rolls his eyes good-naturedly. “But yeah, as soon as the program’s done uploading, I should be able to hack into any Nelson Tech system.”

He nods, even though he knows she can’t see him. “How long will this take?”

“Five minutes tops. Don’t worry, if this goes according to plan, you won’t be late.”

Ward’s lips twitch into a small smile, before sighing as he watches the computer screen show the progress of the upload. “If only this mission wasn’t so last minute.”

“I know. Coulson’s apologized _at_ _least_ five times, but it’s an ‘opportunity we can’t miss.’ _You’re_ the one that volunteered, though.” Her tone’s suddenly exasperated.

“You said sending May would set everything back too far” he defends. There’s a pause and he assumes she’s rolling her eyes.

“There are _other_ agents of SHIELD, Grant.”

He smirks unapologetically. “Yeah, but they’re not as efficient.”

“I still can’t decide whether you being cocky is hot or annoying” she says and his smirk only grows. He opens his mouth to respond, but the upload finishes at that moment.

“Upload complete” he says as he plucks the flash drive from the computer. He puts it back into the recorder, before stashing the recorder in his pocket.

“Alright, your evac’s on its way, so get to the roof as soon as you can.” There’s a pause and he can almost hear the grin in her voice. “I’ll see you later. Don’t be late.”

He grins. “I won’t be.” The communication cuts then and he makes his way to the door. It swings open just as he reaches it, though, and he comes face-to-face with two security guards. _Dammit_. They eye him questioningly, before their gazes suddenly land on the unconscious woman on the floor behind him. _Dammit_. For a brief moment, he wishes Skye _was_ there, so she could try her “Jedi mind trick”- her term, not his –on them. But she’s not, and unfortunately it doesn’t work long distance. It’s for the best, though. After a certain incident, he’s been less than happy whenever she uses her powers.

He doesn’t bother with attempting an explanation, and there’s no time to knock them out with the ICER gas- there’s limited amount in there anyway, so he figures he should save it just in case –instead, he punches the closest man straight in the face. Not a second later, though, he’s being tackled by the second. They fall to the ground and he barely dodges as the man’s fist comes flying toward his face. Skye would kill him if he shows up with a bruised face. He knees the man in the gut and uses the man’s disorientation at the pain to roll them over so he’s on top. He then punches him in the face, effectively knocking him out.

He turns and rolls out of the way just in time to avoid the foot of the other man, who’s cradling his broken nose. The man takes out his gun and Ward wishes he had his ICER. He ducks just as the man starts firing. Instead of taking cover, though, he darts straight to the man, grabbing his wrist with one hand and twisting it to make him release the gun. With his free hand, he catches the gun as it falls. He then slams the butt of the weapon against the man’s temple to knock him out. The man slumps to the ground and Ward drops the gun a moment later. He eyes the unconscious bodies. Who needs an ICER? Well, it certainly would’ve made the ordeal a lot quicker and easier, but a job done is still a job done.

He slips out of the room quickly, knowing that it wouldn’t be long before backup arrives. He’s up the stairs and making his way toward the roof not a minute later. He reaches it and looks around, quickly catching sight of his evac as it approaches. He allows himself to relax and straightens his tie, just before the helicopter reaches him and he grabs the ladder hanging down. 

* * *

 

He’s almost late. Almost. He undoes his tie as he slips in through the front door of the house. He glances around, but doesn’t see anyone. He’s not surprised, though; they must all be busy. He goes to start getting ready himself, but stops as he’s suddenly attacked by a blur of fur.

“Hey,” he says as the dog’s front paws claw at his abdomen excitedly. He tries to make his voice stern, but fails miserably as a wide grin comes to his face. “Sit.” The dog obeys immediately and Ward kneels down to scratch his head. “Good boy.” The dog scoots closer as Ward’s scratches under his chin.

He looks up when he hears someone approaching to see Coulson, a small grin on the man’s face as he adjusts his cuffs. “Just on time.” He offers his hand to help Ward up and he takes it. “Mission go smoothly?” Ward nods.

“Yes, sir.”

Coulson nods and claps him on the shoulder before releasing him. “Good, we can talk about it later. Now, drop the _sir_ ‘cause we’re in your house and go get ready. I was just sent to retrieve Captain, here.” Coulson gestures to the mutt and Ward grins, before nodding. He gives the dog one more scratch on the head, before continuing on until he reaches the guest room. He quickly enters it and shuts the door behind him.

“Cutting it close, man” Trip says at the same time Fitz speaks.

“We were getting worried.”

Ward doesn’t pause, grabbing the clothes Trip’s holding out for him and instantly going into the bathroom to change, closing the door behind him.

“Skye says the mission went well” Trip’s voice says. Ward nods as he buttons up his shirt.

“Yeah, I was in and out quickly.” He hears the door to the room open then.

“You should knock,” Trip says with fake shock to whoever entered. “We could’ve been naked for all you know.”

“Why do you think I didn’t knock?” Ward hears Gayle’s voice say and he rolls his eyes. “Besides, three men naked in a room together without the excuse of shared athleticism? As if your societal views of masculinity would allow that.” He smirks and can practically see Trip grasping for a comeback, before the other man just laughs. Ward finishes getting dressed then and exits the bathroom. He makes eye contact with Gayle and the two exchange a small grin.

“You look nice” he comments. She’s wearing a dress instead of her usual slacks and button-up blouse.

She raises an eyebrow, amused. “Same to you.” He notices her eyeing him and lets out a breath.

“So, what’s the verdict?”

She sits down on the bed and grins slightly. “You’re nervous as hell.” Ward scoffs and she briefly turns her attention to Trip as the man walks up to her and leans down. Ward waits for her to finish straightening the man’s tie, before responding.

“Can you blame me?” He shrugs. “I’m still kind of taking it all in.”

She gives him a soft look. “When we met in that interrogation room almost eight years ago, if I had told you this is where you’d be in time, would you have believed me?”

He shakes his head, growing sober at the memory. “Not for a second.”

She stands up and walks up to him, leaning up to give him a light kiss on the cheek. “Well, I never doubted.” Her affectionate smile turns cheeky a moment later. “I mean, I brag about you all the time. You’re my biggest success case.”

He raises his eyebrows, turning amused. “Really?”

She nods. “Yeah, I was thinking about naming my first born child after you.” He laughs, but is distracted when there’s a knock on the door and a second later it opens just wide enough for May to poke her head in. The woman’s lips are straight, but there’s a smile in her eyes.

“Everything’s ready” she says, before disappearing and closing the door. Ward swallows and turns to Gayle. She simply flashes him a reassuring grin, before turning to the two other men.

“Well, you guys better go join the girls while Grant and I go outside.” They nod and Fitz grins widely, before clapping Ward on the back. He doesn’t flinch, hasn’t in a long time.

“You ready for the ball and chain?” Fitz jokes.

Ward lets out a nervous breath, before he feels his lips curl up in a soft, earnest smile and he nods. “Yeah.” 

* * *

 

“I should be thanking you,” Gayle says casually a few minutes later as they stand outside underneath a simple, white arch with light purple flowers threaded through it. He does his best to ignore the gazes of the few guests who aren’t apart of the wedding party. “Getting ordained was on my bucket list. You just gave me the excuse.”

“You didn’t have to go through the whole process. Skye could’ve easily-”

“I like to do things legally, thank you.” They exchange grins that are both amused and exasperated, because they’ve had this conversation before.

But then the music starts.

It’s a soft melody, the instrumental to one of Skye’s favorite songs, which she had dubbed “their song.” Gayle straightens immediately, smiling softly. Ward’s attention is focused solely on the aisle, which leads to another arch. This one has thin curtain hanging from it, though, just enough to obscure the view until the person walks through. Behind that, is the backdoor to the house. The air is soft, with just the faintest breeze rustling through the surrounding trees. He can’t help but smile, knowing that Skye will find it perfect.

It’s a moment later when Fitz and Simmons walk through the veil. Simmons is wearing one of the light purple bridesmaid dresses Skye had showed him endless pictures of. Her hair is in loose curls. Skye had said she wanted everyone to look as simple and free as possible, without verging into casual. The small bouquet Simmons has in her hands matches the flowers along the arch. Fitz is wearing a tux, with a tie that matches the color of Simmons’ dress. When they reach Ward, Fitz gives him a thumbs up before going to stand by his side. Simmons pauses briefly, going on her tip toes and he leans down enough for her to kiss his cheek. He smiles at her, noticing how moist her eyes already are, before she goes to take her place next to where Skye will be standing.

He turns his attention back to the aisle just as Trip and May appear. Trip’s wearing the same tux as Fitz and grinning widely, while May’s wearing basically the same dress as Simmons, just with alteration to fit her body type. Her hair is down and loose, with the slightest waves in it. Trip pulls him in for a hug when they reach him, before going to stand next to Fitz. May goes straight to her spot, but the small smile and nod of her head she gives him tells him all he needs to know.

And then, Captain is bounding out from behind the veil and Ward can’t help but laugh along with everyone else, because they had _actually_ managed to get the dog in a tux. He goes straight to Gayle, who’s holding out a treat that’s swallowed whole in the blink of an eye. She then snaps her fingers and he sits obediently next to her.

The bridal march begins then and everyone stands and Ward can feel his heart beating in his chest. _This is it_. He vaguely notices Gayle glance at him with an anticipatory smile. His sole focus is on the arch across from him. He’s not breathing. He’s holding his breath because he knows any moment she’s going to show and there will be nothing but her.

He’s not disappointed.

She steps through the veil a moment later on Coulson’s arm. They make eye contact instantly and her smile is enough to knock away what little breath he has left. The veil she wears doesn’t cover her face and ends about mid-thigh. Her hair flows past her shoulders in loose waves and she wears only a light touch of makeup. Her bouquet is a combination of the light purple flowers he can’t remember the name of and white daisies. Her dress is simple, yet elegant, but not overly so, flowing naturally to the ground.

She’s perfect.

When she reaches him, he’s all but forgotten about everything else but her. As they stare at each other, he doesn’t care that he’s probably got a stupid smile on his face. Because she’s perfect. She could’ve been wearing anything and they could’ve been anywhere and she’d still be perfect.

Gayle clears her throat slightly, breaking the bubble briefly. Skye turns her eyes from him to lean up and kiss Coulson’s cheek. The man gives her a smile, gaze nothing but proud and affectionate, before kissing her forehead. He then turns his eyes to Ward, expression completely serious. Ward reads the message loud and clear and gives a nod to show his understanding. Coulson returns the nod, before placing Skye’s hand in his and going to take his seat.

“Glad to see you aren’t late” Skye remarks quietly and he can’t help but chuckle. He tries, then, to listen to what Gayle says, but it’s far too easy to tune out everything but Skye. Luckily, Gayle lightly nudges his leg at just the right moment.

“I do” he says and he thinks he might fly. Gayle then repeats the vows for Skye, giving the other woman a light nudge as well when her turn comes.

“I do” Skye says and he wonders if his chest could feel any fuller.

They exchange rings and Gayle grins widely before speaking her next words. “By the power invested in me, by the state of New York, I now pronounce you husband and wife. You may now kiss the bride.”

Gayle’s barely finished with the sentence before Skye’s throwing her arms around his neck and crashing her lips to his. He smiles into the kiss and wraps his arms around her waist to bring her closer. He barely even notices the cheers- and a couple catcalls –from those surrounding them. They pull back after a moment and rest their foreheads against each other, smiling.

“I love you” Skye murmurs and he knows he’ll never, ever grow tired of hearing those words.

“I love you too,” he responds and his hand travels lightly to the small bump in her abdomen. “So much.” 

_“Though we’re tethered to the story we must tell_

_When I saw you, well I knew we’d tell it well_

_With a whisper we will tame the vicious seas_

_Like a feather bringing kingdoms to their knees”_


End file.
